


The Unforgiven

by JRC10



Series: The Unforgiven [1]
Category: General Hospital, One Life to Live
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-05-14 15:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 60,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19275817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JRC10/pseuds/JRC10
Summary: This is a story about Alexis Davis.  Though some ships (Julexis and LoLexis) are in this story, it is primarily a story about her.Alexis starts the story facing tragedy, but soon finds hope that there may be light at the end of the tunnel.  However, in order to get through that tunnel, she has to face a an old enemy to whom she owes a great debt...and he intends on collecting...





	1. Stages of Grief

Stages of Grief

_______________

 

Grief can make a make a person do unthinkable things. I’ve killed a man in grief before. Tonight, however, grief is making me do something far less fatal, but no less self-destructive.

“Are you sure about this?” says Julian. 

He’s looking at me in that way he does, all affection and devotion. It’s hard enough to push him away with that look in his eyes on a normal day, but today marks six months since the funerals, and I have no self-control. It’s either him or alcohol, and he always stops me from getting my hands on vodka. That’s fine, he’s the greater addiction anyway.

“I want you,” I say. And I do. I want him. I can still taste him on my tongue, though it’s been more than a year since we last kissed.

I know his self-restraint is feeble. I can tell by his cock straining against his zipper. But he’ll hold onto that last bit of control because he loves me, respects me, and wants to make sure I’m ready. And perhaps the most significant reason for his restraint is I’ve got him scared to hope. The last few times I let him in, I pushed him away when sense got a hold of me. Something about his proximity always reminds me of what it was like on those docks with Helena’s dagger to my throat. But today, I’d rather feel that than grief.

I’m not playing fair, I know. He probably thought I invited him over to fall asleep crying in his arms like I’ve done so many time before. I didn’t. I invited him over to fuck me...or make love to me. Whatever.

I’m standing in front of him in a white, silk robe and nothing else. I’ve prettied myself up for him. Hair, makeup, perfume. I don’t want any resistance tonight. I want to feel something other than loss and pain, and Julian is the only man who can make me FEEL. 

I have no shame in this. No fear. What can he do to hurt me now? Nothing. Slit my throat for all I care, God knows I’ve nearly done it to myself since they died. That’s at least a proper way to go.

I run a finger down my chest, between my breasts. The sensation almost chases my morbid thoughts away, but it’s the heat in Julian’s gaze that really brings me out of my misery. I can see his muscles through his shirt. He’s tense, coiled, ready to spring. But still he doesn’t move.

My hand drops further...I untie the robe.

His resistance is gone, I can see it in his eyes. He’s gone from wary uncertainty to reverent admiration. He’s staring at me as though I’m a work of art...a religious one at that. I’m the Sistine Chapel, and he a faithful devotee. 

I look down at my body, wondering what it is he sees. The white robe brings out the olive tone of my skin. My nipples are still covered by the edge of the robe, pulling at the delicate fabric. My pussy is bare, shaved the way he likes.

Still he waits…

I know he wants me. I know he’s not fighting it anymore. But he doesn’t move. He’s waiting for me, deferring to me...a chastised boy punished so many times he lost his volition.

I pull the robe off my breasts and trace the swells with the back of my fingers. His eyes are riveted on the path of my hands. I run a hand down my abdomen and to my pussy.

“Don’t you want me?” I ask, nearly taunting him into action.

He nods, his eyes never leaving my body. I dip a finger in the folds of my pussy, stimulating my hot, wet sex. I moan at how good it makes me feel.

Julian leans forward, watching my pleasure. He inhales deeply, and I can see his need. My finger is sliding through my pussy, and I’m ready for it to be his tongue.

I step closer, as close as I can to the couch where he sits. His hands come up, pulling the robe farther apart, and they rest on my hips, his fingers are so long they’re pressing against the cheeks of my ass. 

I slide my wet finger out of my sex and bring it to his lips. “Do you remember what I taste like, Julian?”

He can only grunt and give the slightest indication of a nod. I trace his lips with my arousal. He’s breathing in my scent like he’s starved for oxygen. His pale, pink lips part and his tongue runs over the wet trail I’ve left on them. 

A deep moan sounds as he savors the flavor he’s missed all these years. “Alexis,” he says, as though the taste confirmed my identity.

Julian sucks up my finger and licks off the rest of my flavor. I like teasing him. It makes me feel like I have some goddamn control over something. 

But, ultimately, this isn’t about control; this is about getting lost for a little while. If I can get lost, I might forget for a moment. 

Julian’s touch is lidocaine on my broken, bleeding heart. I know he can’t fix the gaping hole where my lifeblood is pouring out, but at least it won’t hurt as bad as it has been for the last six months.

I need his mouth on me. My fingers run through his hair and I pull his head to my pussy. He meets my lips with his mouth, and that glorious tongue. There’s nothing in the world like a tongue that knows how to love a pussy, and there’s no one in the world that knows how to love mine like Julian Jerome. 

For this moment, I forget my pain. All I feel is pleasure. I can even push away the nagging guilt that usually comes with letting Julian back in. When it threatens to invade, my hips roll against his mouth, and his tongue never misses a beat. 

Julian wants me, and he loves me, and he makes me feel so damn good. And I want him, and I love him, and I know I do it for him, too! 

He licks me furiously to orgasm, and I scream so loud I’m afraid my neighbors a half mile down the road might hear. I’m ready to have his cock in me, but I wait as he licks up my pleasure because it’s a turn on to see how badly he wants to consume me.

When I can’t hold back anymore, I push him up against the couch and help him disrobe. Years apart doesn’t change how well we know each other, so when I climb over him and my pussy finds his cock, it feels like home. His muscled chest against my hands sends waves of pleasure to my brain. He’s fucking beautiful, especially after what he just did to me.

He knows my rhythm, how I like to move. And I know how to make him come. I fuck him as hard as I can. I want to climax again. I want to get lost in the opposite sensation of the pain of losing my babies. 

NO! Don’t think about it! Fuck him harder! Fuck him faster!

No, no, the tears are coming...stop...think about Julian. Think about Julian.

His eyes lock on my face, and I don’t want him to see me cry. I don’t want him to get chivalrous and stop. I need this!

He’s looking at me THAT way. That concerned way. He’s not moving anymore. 

“Julian, please!” my voice breaks in anger and frustration, and I redouble my efforts. But he’s not with me. “I need it! Give it to me!” 

Tears are in his eyes, too. 

“Julian…”

Julian puts a stop to my movement by laying me back on the couch. He’s lying over me looking down with so much pain in his eyes. It’s like looking in a mirror. I watch a tear roll down his cheek and drop down to mine. 

This is why I go to Julian, we’re the same. He knows. He gets it. The hurt. The loss. 

I wipe his tear from my cheek and I realize it wasn’t alone. My own tears have joined with his.

“Julian…” I say, this time in comfort.

He bends down and kisses me. I can’t tell if it’s in consolation or need, but I know it’s in love. His heavy weight is grounding, so I keep him there, wrapping my legs around his body. He deepens the kiss and starts moving his hips again. Slower this time, and I know he’s not trying to run from the pain like I was. He’s feeling it...just like he’s feeling the pleasure. Because when we make love it’s both pleasure and pain for so many reasons, but we’re addicted to each other and we don’t have a choice.

This time, I take his lead. I don’t push the loss away. I let it wash over me...Sam, Kristina, Danny...gone. Dead. And my poor sweet girl...my little Scout...missing. And I know Julian’s thinking of Avery, too. 

A sob escapes my lips into Julian’s mouth. He kisses me deeper, squeezes me harder. 

I think of Christmas day...pulling up to Sonny’s house to celebrate with my girls and my babies...everyone dead. Bodies everywhere. Everyone Sonny loved...gone. My family...gone.

Julian keeps fucking me, and we’re both sobbing now. 

I see my two eldest daughters riddled with bullets. Thank God Molly wasn’t there. I search the room for Scout, but I can’t find her. I can’t find her! I find bodies. Sonny, Carly, Michael, Jason, Josslyn, and a half-dozen guards. But no little girls.

How can my body feel so much pleasure when my heart has so much pain?

Julian got to Sonny’s before the police. I called him first. “I can’t find her! I can’t find our baby girl!” 

My climax is coming, and so is his.

The police found us crying over our dead family, contaminating the crime scene. It took two days to wash their blood off my skin.

This time, when I come, I don’t scream, but cry out. So does he. 

This is why I need him. We’re the same.

I’m completely spent. He takes me up to bed and holds me as I fall asleep. It won’t take long, my eyes are swollen shut and my body craves rest. I know I’m finally going to get some sleep.


	2. Stories

Stories

_______________

 

Julian wakes me with breakfast. After sleeping a full ten hours completely uninterrupted, I’m famished.

“What’s that look?” I ask before I take a bite of bacon. He’s been searching my face for something since I opened my eyes.

“I don’t know. I guess, I’m waiting for you to throw me out.”

I shouldn’t be surprised, I’ve rejected him so many times in the last three years. “I don’t want you to go.”

“Is this just for today?” Apparently, he’s been preparing for heartbreak. This has always been the fundamental imbalance of our relationship. He’s afraid of me pushing him away.

I’m not going to anymore. I reassure him, “I can’t lose you. I can’t lose anyone else.” I shake my head as I think of my babies. I keep the tears at bay. 

He closes the gap between us and takes the last piece of bacon from my plate. He holds it up as though it’s a hostage. “You’re in?” he says those familiar words from so long ago. “For good?”

All I can do is nod. I’m in. He doesn’t smile like I expect him to, he hasn’t smiled in six months, but I can see the relief in the set of his shoulders. I lean in and kiss him.

He deepens the kiss, and I can tell this means even more to him than last night did to me. My hand traces up his beautiful, firm body, and down his big, strong arm. I snatch the hostage from his unsuspecting hand.

I grin as I pull away nibbling on my morning conquest. 

And there it is. His smile. His eyes are lit from within, and I know he’s feeling it soul deep.

It makes me smile, too. The bacon also helps.

And in a flash, he’s on top of me, pinning me to the bed. His mouth is on mine. When he slips his cock inside me I hear our breakfast tray clattering to the floor. The sex is more nourishing anyway.

I think I feel something I’d almost forgotten...happiness. I allow myself a moment of the indulgence without the intrusion of guilt. I need this. So does he.

 

___________________

 

There are no interruptions to our love making for most of the day. But Julian’s cock is deep in my mouth the first time I hear my phone ring in the late afternoon. I ignore the unwelcome intrusion as his cum starts shooting down my throat. I swallow it down, hot and thick and viscous. I’m surprised how much I miss this. 

Julian’s hands are gripping my hair, and his expression all delirious gratitude. Funny, he thinks what I just did was for him, and not the self-indulgence it really was. I suck on his cock again trying to get more cum. 

“This must be a fucking dream,” he says. 

I release his cock from my mouth and kiss my way up his body. I don’t tell him what I’m thinking, that this just a break from the nightmare, the reality of the hell we’re actually living in. He wraps his arms around me and kisses me deep.

My phone rings again.

“Can I throw it out the window?” he asks. 

“It might be Molly.” The only baby I have left. I pull away to retrieve the phone. “It’s Valentin. What does he want?”

Julian narrows his eyes. He has no warmth or affection for my brother.

I answer the phone. “Hello?”

“Hello, Alexis.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I make sure he can hear my sarcasm.

The pause he takes before he speaks makes me nervous. “I need to see you.”

“And this is in regards to…?”

“Scout.”

My sarcasm is gone. “Do you know where she is?”

“I might have some helpful information. Can I come by?”

“I’m home now.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.” The line is dead before I drop the phone from my ear. 

“What did he want?” Julian asks.

I turn to him and try not to tremble when I speak. “He might know something about Scout.”

Julian grabs my arm. “And Avery?”

I shrug. I feel guilty for not asking. “He’ll be here in an hour.”

We stare at each other with little more than blank expressions. We know better than to get our hopes up, especially when it comes to Valentin. But we can’t ignore possible information about our missing girls.

We shower and prepare for company. Our appetites are gone for both food and sex. We just want our girls. If Valentin is messing with us, it’s in the cruelest way.

I drink three cups of coffee before my brother finally shows up. I have no pleasantries for the man, but I spare him my usual outward expression of distaste since there’s a possibility he has information that could lead to the only thing in the world that matters to me in this moment.

“What do you know?” I ask as he steps through the door. I see he’s carrying a large envelope under his arm.

“Hello, sister. Julian.” Valentin nods to Julian. Julian just stares waiting for Valentin’s response to my question.

“I’ve had some people looking into Scout and Avery’s disappearance,” he says.

“Why?” I don’t trust anything this man says. 

“Because Scout’s family.”

“You’ve never thought of her as family before.”

“Only because you’ve turned me away, Natasha. I don’t know any other ways to express my desire to connect with my family than I’ve already done.”

I force myself to keep my comments about him killing Nikolas at bay. “What have your people found?”

“Given the nature of the Christmas massacre, I believe the PCPD was right in assuming it was mob related, so I had my men look into as many possible large scale criminal organizations as possible, starting with those in close proximity, or those with known connections, both hostile and benign, to Sonny’s business.” 

“And?”

“And, Sonny’s had some hostilities with an organization in Jersey.”

“Which one?” asks Julian.

“Moretti.”

“You know them?” I ask.

Julian nods. “I dealt with them a few times, mostly making arrangements to carry product passing through their territory.”

Valentin continues, “I spent the last several months investigating their organization. They run most of the territory on the Hudson. I had my men look for anything they could get on their activity Christmas night and several days after.”

I look to the envelope under his arm. “And?”

“Can we sit?” he asks.

I nod and lead him to the sofa. Valentin sits alone on the oversized chair and Julian tucks me in his arm on the couch. I think he’s trying to protect me or comfort me or something.

Valentin fiddles with the envelope in his hands as he speaks, “At three a.m. on the twenty-sixth of December, a cargo ship departed from a Moretti controlled pier.”

“Where did it go?”

“The ship belongs to a Mexican Cartel from Lázaro Cárdenas in Michoacán, Mexico.” 

Julian looks like he’s racking his memory for something about the cartel. “I’ve never heard of them. Do they have a connection to Sonny?”

“That I don’t know.”

“What DO you know?”

Valentin passes the envelope to me. I open it up and there is a report on the cartel. I scan quickly through the pages, and it’s mostly a laundry list of criminal activity associated with the organization. “I once had an interaction with the Lázaro Cartel,” he says.

That catches my attention. “When?”

“Three years ago.”

“When you came into town?”

“Around then.” His vague response makes me suspicious. “They reached out to me.”

“What did they want?”

Valentin smiled sadly. “I won’t get into specifics, but they requested I help them retrieve ‘a soul.’”

“What the hell does that mean?” asked Julian.

“They’re a spiritual people. They revel in their traditions and stories. The ‘Jefe,’ or boss, of the cartel has only been seen by a handful of people outside the organization. His people refer to him as ‘El Cucuy.’”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s an old Mexican urban legend. Some people say the Cucuy is the devil himself. Others say he’s the boogeyman hiding in closets to scare children. Some even have elaborate stories of him hunting down and eating misbehaving children.”

“Why do they call this man the…?”

“El Cucuy,” Valentin finishes. “Outside of Spanish speaking countries, he has other names. Most seem to refer to him as some sort of ‘Reaper of Souls.’”

“Human trafficker?” I ask.

Valentin nodded. “I guess you can say that.”

“What did you mean by him wanting ‘a soul’ from you?”

“The soul he wanted was of the person who killed someone important to him. An eye for an eye, so to speak. A soul for a soul.”

“You killed a man for him?”

Valentin shook his head. “No. I found the man and handed him over. The Reaper doesn’t want his souls dead. He wants them alive.”

“Why?”

“I have no interest in letting my mind wander in such directions.”

“So, you just prefer to turn the ‘soul’ over and remain willfully ignorant of the consequences to the poor man?”

“I wouldn’t turn down a request from such a man, Alexis, or he might take my daughter, my wife, or even my sister in compensation.” Valentin is quiet a moment to let his words sink in. When he sees the meaning set in on my expression, he continues, “Which brings me to my guess as to what happened to Scout and Avery.”

“You think they’re payment for ‘souls’ taken from this Reaper?”

Valentin shrugged, “If Sonny offended him in some way, The Reaper would demand payment.”

“But Scout isn’t Sonny’s family!” I yell at the unfairness. “She was only there because of Sam!”

Valentin shrugs, “They killed everyone else, Alexis. Even Josslyn and Danny. Their target was the little girls. Who knows, maybe Sonny was responsible for the deaths of some girls he knew. I don’t know for certain, but it FEELS like this man. He’s done this before.” Valentin points to the report in my hands. “Look that over and tell me you don’t think he’s responsible.”

I look down at the papers in my hands. I’m certain I’ll find a few massacres and missing persons in the pile. I look up at Julian to see if he believes what we’re hearing.

His brow is furrowed and his eyes are worried. “What if he has our girls?”

“Then we have to go get them back.”

“Alexis,” says Valentin quietly. When he doesn’t address me as Natasha, I worry more. “Read that report thoroughly before you do anything. This isn’t a man to mess with.”

“I’m guessing this is all the help I can expect from you?”

Valentin nods and stands. “I have a family of my own to worry about. I’m not at all eager to experience the wrath of the Devil himself.”

When Valentin is gone, Julian and I sit together reading the report. It’s more than just a list of crimes. It has timelines, political affiliations, some of their assets, types of criminal activities they engage in, a list of enemies, and a list of allies.

“Should we call Drew and Ava?” I ask.

Julian shrugs. “When’s the last time either of them returned our calls? They’re too busy razing the eastern seaboard.”

“They both lost all of their children. Can you blame them?” I try not to think about what I would do if Molly was gone, too.

“Of course not. We’ll reach out and tell them we’re following up on a lead in Mexico.”

“I guess I should book us tickets to Michoacán?”

Julian nods. His eyes are dark and sad, filling moisture. I cradle his cheek with my hand and stroke my thumb over his skin. He leans into my touch.

“What are you thinking?” I say.

“Alexis...if a man like that has our girls…” A tear falls down his cheek. 

I wipe it away and answer, “Then we’ll use all the formidable skills Victor, Mikkos, and Helena taught us to tear him limb from limb until we get them back.”

Julian’s eyes widen a moment before he sets them in determination. It’s almost as though he forgot our roots. He’s remembered now. “This man is going to rue the day he crossed a Cassadine and a Jerome.”


	3. La Música

La Música

_______________

 

I hate humidity. I’m sticky and sweaty and gross. My hair is frizzing in a way that makes no sense since I don’t have curly hair. My makeup is making me look more like a raccoon than a person. 

Julian sets our bags down on the floor. We packed light in case we need to move quickly, which is a difficult thing for a person who likes to prepare for everything. 

Music is coming into the room from an open window in the suite. Sounds of trumpets and accordions drift up from the square below. In the plaza, it is apparently normal for the mariachi to fuel the party well after midnight.

Too bad we’re not here for the party.

“We should get some rest,” Julian says. The bags under his eyes are weighing heavy. I’m sure mine are no different. “There’s nothing productive we can do at one o’clock in the morning that won't get us killed.”

“We could sample the tequila,” I say, looking at the minibar.

Julian doesn’t laugh at my joke. Probably because he knows I’m not joking. “I’ll get it out of here,” he offers.

“Don’t worry about it.” I can control myself. Now isn’t the time to risk my sobriety.

Julian peels off his clothes and pulls back the blanket on the bed. He collapses in exhaustion, and I think he might already be asleep as his head hits the pillow. Somehow, I don’t think it’s going to be so easy for me. 

I open my bag and unpack my clothes and toiletries. When I have everything where I need it, I brush my teeth and return to Julian. I forgo my pajamas just as he did, and lay down.

Just as I suspected, sleep doesn’t come easy. Even long after the music stops playing, I’m no longer used to Julian’s snoring, and I can’t draw my attention away from it long enough to drift off. 

A part of me knows I’m paying so close attention to all the noises surrounding me so I won’t focus on the scarier thoughts in my head. Maybe I should’ve taken a sleeping pill. I’ve heard Xanax is easy to get here.

Just as I think I might be getting close to turning my brain off, one of Julian’s snores gets caught in his throat making me jump. My heart takes a minute to settle down, but my brain stays wired. 

Maybe it’s too hot and humid to sleep. I get out of bed, adjust the fan, and bring down the air conditioner before returning to lie down and not sleep some more.

I know I need rest if I’m going to be of any use tomorrow. I need a distraction. I need a release of tension.

“Julian.” I shake his shoulder. His skin is as clammy as mine. “Julian!”

“What?” he jumps awake. He’s scanning the room for a threat. 

“I need you,” I say.

His eyes flick back to mine in question. 

“I need you,” I soften my voice.

He nods understanding me now. He looks me up and down and sees my naked body, and it doesn’t take long for the heat to take over his eyes. His cock visibly grows as he pulls me closer. 

Our bodies are sticky and hot, and normally in a situation like this I probably wouldn’t be in the mood for sex, but I need this right now. He kisses me once, twice, and on the third time, his mouth doesn’t leave my lips. Our tongues tangle as my limbs wrap around him. With no other preamble, he shoves his cock in my pussy and starts fucking me.

The stickiness of our skin is soon replaced with copious amounts of sweat. I like the sensation, slick and slippery. It feels like sensual oils or lubricant, except it tastes of salt and Julian. 

Julian makes me come twice before he finishes. I lay tangled in his arms and pressed against his chest. His slowing heart rate and breath ease me into a resting state. 

Finally, I start drifting off…

 

___________________

 

I’m awoken by more music. This time, a guitar. I’m tired, so I probably have an excuse to complain about the noise, but it’s a beautiful sound, so I can’t hold onto the anger. 

“Good morning,” Julian says from across the room, though his voice doesn’t hold the optimism of his statement. He stands up and comes to sit next to me on the bed. “You finally got some rest.”

I look at the clock and realize I’ve slept ‘til noon. “You should’ve woken me earlier. We need to get started on finding Scout.”

“I’ve been looking all morning. I contacted a few people, known associates and known enemies of this Reaper guy. No one seems willing to talk. Not even for the ridiculous bribes I’m offering.” I notice Julian’s wearing slacks and a white button up. He’s been out already.

“What do you think we should do?”

Julian shrugs. “More of the same. There are a few more people on this list Valentin gave us.”

I nod and say, “I’ll shower and we’ll head out.”

Julian puts his hand on my leg as though he wants to soften the blow of what he’s intending to say. “Sweetheart, I was thinking only one of us should go. I mean, what happens if something goes wrong? Who’s left to look for Scout?”

I push his hand off my leg and narrow my eyes. “Drew and Ava, that’s who. I know what you’re trying to do, Julian, and you need to stop. You don’t get to keep me from being a part of this. I’ve got a good mind and I can read people. I’m an asset. And maybe one of these guys will respond differently to a woman than a man, and we might catch a break.”

Julian sighs deep and nods his acceptance. He probably knew his feeble attempt at keeping me locked in the hotel would be fruitless. 

I’m ready to go in thirty minutes. I had a miserable time deciding what to wear in this heat, but ended up with black capris and a white blouse. Poor Julian dons his suit jacket. He must be terribly hot, but he’s projecting money and influence. He knows this game.

He grabs a gun from the table, and I briefly wonder where he found it this morning. I’m certain he didn’t have it last night. I don’t ask. I also don’t ask when he hands me a paper bag full of American cash to hold in my purse. He puts a few wads in his own pockets, as well.

I’m so grateful he’s here.

As we walk out of the hotel, my nerves get the best of me. When my breath catches and my chest starts to hurt, I’m about ready to empty the bag of cash and use the paper bag to calm myself down. I stop a moment and rest my head against Julian’s chest. I look for his heartbeat since it was so effective in calming me early this morning. 

He strokes my hair and kiss my temple. I do my best not to let tears fill my eyes. The music in the plaza is soft and calming. Along with Julian’s physical reassurances, I’m grounded again and ready to go. 

I see the guitar player sitting on a step in the square. His case is open and he’s got a few bills and some change thrown in. I detour a moment, pulling Julian with me. 

The artist is playing a Spanish guitar. He’s picking at the strings like a classically trained artist, though the sound is more modern than anything I’ve heard before. He looks a little worse for wear - rail thin, dirty clothes, and a scruffy beard. It takes me a moment to realize he’s probably only in his twenties. 

In gratitude for the service he doesn’t know he’s rendered my nerves, I throw a large bill into his case before moving on. 

“Where are we going first?” I ask Julian. 

“Since we don’t know where this guy’s base of operations is, we’re going to visit one of his associates. We’ll try to buy information from them.”

I nod and follow his lead. The music stops abruptly, and I hear a voice call out, “¡Perdóneme! ¡Señora!”

Julian and I turn to find the guitar player coming after us. 

“Yes?” I say.

“You speak English?” he asks.

“I do.” I feel Julian’s grip tighten around my waist. 

“You dropped $100 bill in my case.” He holds up the money for me to take back.

“I know. Your playing was worth it.” I don’t tell him that I’m hoping he uses it to get a clean set of clothes and a solid meal or two.

He raises his eyebrows in shock. “Oh. Thank you.”

“You don’t have an accent. Have you spent time in America?”

He shrugs. “All over the place really.”

“How long have you been in Michoacán?”

Darkness steals over his eyes and he huffs a deep breath. “A few years.”

“You know this place pretty well?” Julian asks.

He nods.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Baz.”

“Is that a nickname or something?”

“Short for Sebastian.”

“I’m Alexis,” I hold out a hand. Baz takes it like a gentleman. He’s known privilege at some point in his life. “This is Julian.”

Julian just nods to him before he says, “Look, kid. The lady and I are looking for someone. Maybe you can help us out.”

Baz smiles at me. I think he might be a little taken with me, or maybe he just like $100 bills. “Anything I can do to help.”

“The man we’re looking for...we don’t know his name.” Julian is talking in low whispers. “People around here know him as El Cucuy.”

Baz turns white as a sheet, and considering his dark complexion, that’s saying something. “I’m sorry. I’ve...I...never heard of him.” Baz is backing away. “Good luck, Alexis,” he says with worried eyes before he turns around and runs back to his guitar. He packs up his instrument and takes off running. Only a moment later there’s no evidence that Baz the guitarist was ever in the square.

“Something tells me Baz might know a little something about this guy,” says Julian.

I nod and shrug. “I’d probably be doing the same thing if our little girls were safe back home.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Julian finds us a cab and gets him to take us down to the docks. When the cab drops us off at a dirty, old, rundown building, the driver can’t speed away fast enough. When I see the security guards with automatic rifles at the door, I wish I was back in the car with him.

Julian wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into his side. He whispers quietly under his breath. “Don’t show them fear, Alexis. They can smell it.”

I nod and force myself to channel my inner Cassadine. Julian guides me toward the door.

“Hola señores,” Julian speaks with a thick American accent. “Necesitamos hablar con el señor Márquez.”

I try not to show my shock that Julian’s done his research on how to ask for what he needs. Again, I’m so glad to have him.

“¿Hablas Inglés?” Julian asks.

The men just look at us with complete disinterest, aside from a lingering glance at my tits.

Julian reaches in his pocket and pulls out a couple of bills. He holds them up in one hand. For a moment, neither guard moves, but the guard on the right is the first to give in. He takes the bills from Julian’s hand and shoves them in his pocket. He turns around and opens the door. 

“Sígueme,” he says over his shoulder. I’m certain Julian doesn’t know what that means anymore than I do, but we guess he wants us to follow him. We step into the building and scurry to keep up. It smells like dust and mold and cigarette smoke. The guard leads us through a large warehouse to a small office in the back. 

The office is lacking air conditioning, and there are three fans pointed at a man with his feet up on the desk, and doesn’t take them down for our arrival. 

“Este gabacho quiere hablar contigo. Tiene dinero,” says the guard.

“Bien. Él lo necesitará.” The guard and the guy with his feet on the desk laugh unnecessarily loud. “Quitate.” 

The guard leaves with one last glance at my ass. If being a piece of meat gets me information about Scout, I’ll serve myself up medium-rare. 

“Do you speak English?” asks Julian.

“Perhaps for the right price,” the man says with a thick accent.

Julian reaches in his pocket and pulls out some money. He tosses it on the desk. The man looks at the money with a raised eyebrow and then back to Julian. Julian sighs and doubles the amount. I’m certain Julian would give this man everything we have to get information, but he’s playing his game.

“Are you Márquez?

The man grins without showing his teeth. I’m guessing that means yes.

“I need to speak with someone in the Lázaro Cartel. We understand you’ve done some work with them before.”

“And you are?”

“My name is Julian Jerome. This is my…” he pauses, not knowing what to call me, “my wife, Alexis.” 

Márquez nods politely in my direction. I can’t seem to return his pleasantry. He looks back to Julian. “And why should I help you?”

“We’ll pay you for your trouble.”

“How much?”

Julian takes the wad of cash from his pocket. He cuts it in half and tosses it on the desk. “I’ll give you the rest after you get me in touch with someone in the cartel.”

Márquez licks his lips at the money. I can see about a thousand dollars on the table.

“What do you want from the Lázaros?”

“We’re looking for someone. We think their organization might have information on her whereabouts.”

As if gravity is somehow only just affecting Márquez, his face drops and his feet fall to the floor. He quietly says without out his mocking cockiness, “El Cucuy took someone from you?”

Julian nods.

Márquez gathers up the money and stacks it neatly in his desk. “I’m sorry for your loss. You know I can’t help you, right?”

“Why not?”

“Because then El Cucuy will take someone from me.” 

“I’ll pay you more. I’ll pay them, too. I can give you my number for them if they agree to call, or we can arrange a meeting. You won’t be giving anything away.”

“Except that if you’re working with the government, and I’m your ticket in, you’re not the only one who’s going to pay the price.”

Julian throws the rest of the wad on the table. “Just call them and tell them I have money. We have A LOT of money. The little girls’ parents are very wealthy.”

Márquez drops his head again. He rubs his face in his hand before he says, “Little girls?”

“My niece and my granddaughter. Toddlers.” 

“Hijos de su puta madre,” Márquez mutters. 

“Please,” I say. I reach in my purse and pull out a picture of Scout. “We just want her back. We’ll do anything.”

Márquez holds up his hand, not wanting to see the picture of Scout. Instead, he picks up the phone and dials a number. He speaks rapidly in Spanish to whoever answers the phone. I grab Julian’s hand hoping like hell we’re getting a step closer to finding Scout. He squeezes my hand, and I can feel him vibrating with anticipation. 

Márquez hangs up the phone. It takes him a moment to speak. When he does, it seems it’s with an apology in his tone. “I’m sorry. My contact is unwilling to meet with you. It’s against the...rules...of the Lázaros to barter for a soul.”

“Come on, man!” says Julian. “I’ll pay anything you want. Whatever you want!”

Márquez shakes his head. “There is nothing else for me to do.”

“Do you know someone else who can help us? Another associate? Anyone?”

“No.” By his tone, I can tell he’s done talking to us, and a rush of pressure builds behind my eyes. I do everything I can to stop the tears from forming.

“Let me leave you my card,” says Julian. I know his efforts are fruitless.

“You can leave it in the dumpster across the street for what good it will do you.”

“Just fucking take it. Please.”

Márquez takes the card and discards it in his desk. “No child, especially little girls, should be taken from their homes. I give you my best wishes for your little girls.”

Julian can’t speak anymore. His disappointment is radiating off him in waves of rage. 

“Now,” says Márquez, “if you could leave the rest of that money on my desk, you can walk out of here unharmed and continue the search for your girls.”

“Excuse me?” Julian looks like he’s about to pull out his gun. 

I grab his arm and whisper in his ear. “Give it to him.”

Julian stays staring at the man.

“Give it to him!” I say again, pulling his face down to look at me. I need him to focus on getting us out of here alive.

Julian huffs a breath and pulls out the rest of the money from his pocket and throws it on the table. I know he has more money in his other pockets, and I realize it was probably a good idea to split it all up in the first place. He grabs me around the waist and pulls me out the door.

When we get out, I realize there isn’t a cab waiting for us. Julian keeps us moving away from the guards and their weapons. We’re walking quickly, and I think he’s taking us to a main road to find us a cab back to the hotel.

After we turn a corner, he grumbles, “Fuck! That fucking asshole knows someone who can get us in to see that bastard.”

“Yeah, and so does everyone else on the list Valentin gave us, but at least this guy spoke to someone. That’s progress right?”

“Alexis, we’re no closer to than we were yesterday. Now that asshole is a couple thousand dollars richer for not doing a fucking thing. He knows what these mother fuckers do to little girls…”

“Don’t!” I cut him off. I can’t think like that. I can’t allow my mind to imagine…

Julian stops and wraps me up in his arms. “Fuck, Alexis, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He kisses me on the temple as a sob escapes his lips.

I kiss him gently, because I hate seeing him cry, and I know it helps him to know he has me. But I don’t like being so close to the men with the guns, so I make it brief. “We have to keep moving.”

Julian nods and we set off back down the street.

“Who’s next on the list?” I ask.

Julian pulls out a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and reads a name. “Some guy named Lara. He’s up in Puerto Vallarta. His kid was taken from him.”

“Someone in our shoes? Maybe he’ll be sympathetic to us?”

Julian frowns, “Don’t get your hopes up too high, sweetheart. If he knew something useful, he probably would’ve already gotten his kid back home.”

Despair sets in as we hunt ourselves down a cab.

__________________

 

“I can’t believe we got nothing out of today. Not a goddamn fucking thing.” My tears are flowing freely now. 

We’re on our way back to the hotel. The sun has set and Julian says people are more apt to pull triggers in the dark, so we give up for the day. He’s stroking my hair to comfort me as I sob in the crook of his arm. I can feel one of his own tears land on my head.

We stay like that for a while, until Julian puts the window down to let the fresh ocean breeze in the cab. He’s finally able to take off his coat, and he’s sweating something awful. 

“I’m sorry,” I say, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt in a feeble attempt to cool him off. 

He kisses my temple, “It’s nothing.”

“It’s everything. Thank you for helping me find them.”

“There was never any other option.”

I kiss him. Whatever his words, I’m so grateful he’s here. We had a few close calls today, and one time, he even had to pull out his gun. Our pockets are lighter, but money means nothing. What matters is he’s being the man I need him to be right now.

“Thank you,” I say again. I kiss him deeper. I need him to know how grateful I am. 

It’s when we’re kissing that I hear that beautiful music from the plaza this morning. The cab is stopped at a red light, and I can hear the Spanish guitar on the breeze. It’s a different song, but certainly the same style.

“Baz,” I say. 

It takes Julian a moment to figure out what I’m talking about, but soon I see him listening to the guitar. He throws money at the driver and pulls me out of the cab. We set off at a run down the street. 

We find Baz strumming his guitar on the side of a busy street. When we’re about two feet away, Baz looks up just in time to see Julian grab him by the scruff of his collar and pull him to his feet.

“Come on, kid,” says Julian, “Let’s take a walk.”

I close up his guitar case and bring it with me as I follow Julian.

“Let me go, man. I can’t be seen with you.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because you’re asking too many goddamn questions. You’re going to get someone killed, and it’s probably going to be me.”

Julian finds a gap between a couple of buildings and drags Baz along. He slams him up against the wall. “Look, kid, all we want is information,” says Julian as he pulls his gun out of his waistband and sticks it in Baz’s side, “but I’m willing to do whatever needs to be done to get it.”

I hate this. I’m sick to my stomach at Julian threatening and beating on an innocent kid. A kid who, though living in an obvious state of squalor and poverty, still tried to return my money when he thought I gave him more than I intended.

And I remember what it was like to be on the business end of Julian’s threats with deadly weapon. Again, I hate this.

Baz is looking at me with fear and sadness in his eyes. I want to make things better for him, but dammit, I need him to make things better for us. “We just want to talk, Baz. We know you know something.”

Baz grunts as Julian applies more pressure with the gun. “Fine, I’ll talk. I’ll talk. Just...not here. Not where people can see.”

“We’re desperate, kid,” says Julian. “Don’t you dare try to make another run for it. I will make you regret it.”

Baz nods his compliance. 

“Come on, we’ll take you back to the hotel.”

Baz is jumpy and nervous the whole way. I feel terrible for him, so I make Julian wait to question him until after I feed him as some sort of consolation to our violent coercion. The poor kid is so hungry, he devours his meal in minutes, and I offer him mine.

“Didn’t you eat anything with the money I gave you this morning?”

Baz shook his head. “I had to put it away.”

“What for?”

He takes another bite and talks with his mouth full, “I owe some people money. Bad people.”

“How much money?”

“A lot.”

“Maybe we can help you out if you tell us what we need to know.”

Baz stops eating long to look at me with all the fear and sadness in the world. “I can be killed for this, you know. Or worse…”

“What do you mean, ‘worse?’”

I wait for him to speak, but he goes back to eating my dinner. I can see Julian getting impatient in the way he’s tapping his gun on his leg. The mariachi starts up from the plaza below. Julian sighs at the interruption but Baz seems to find some comfort in the music.

“Did the Lázaros take someone from you?” says Baz. 

I nod, “Our granddaughter and Julian’s niece.”

Baz nods. “That’s usually what brings people like you here looking for HIM.”

“Who is HE?”

Baz shakes his head. “El Cucuy. The Reaper. El Jefe. El Secuestrador. No one knows his real name....” He takes a drink of his soda. “Except one person.”

Julian stops tapping his leg. “Who?”

“My father.”

“Where is he?”

Baz looks at Julian with venom. “Take a guess.”

“The Lázaros have him?”

Baz nods. 

“I’m sorry,” I say, knowing the words don’t really matter to the poor kid. “What happened? How did your dad get mixed up with these men?”

Tears fill his eyes as he thinks back. “My dad...he works for the American government.”

“Doing what?” Julian says.

“He’s an agent.”

“ATF? FBI? ICE?”

“Central Intelligence.”

Julian narrows his eyes. I can tell he’s questioning Baz’s authenticity.

“Go on,” I say.

“The last time I heard from him was right before he was taken. I was performing at a cafe in Spain when I got his call. He said he was on an assignment, and it was risky. He said he wanted to tell me he loved me...just in case.”

“When was this?”

“2013.”

“Six years ago?!”

Baz’s tears start to fall. “He never came home. I reached out to the CIA, but they said they couldn’t comment on classified information. One of his friends at the agency told me he came to Lázaro Cárdenas and was captured, so I followed. I spent years looking for him, showing his picture to anyone who would look at it...That got HIS attention.”

“The Reaper?”

“Why did he care if some kid was waving around a picture of his missing father?” says Julian.

“Because my father shares a face with El Cucuy.”

“What?” Julian looks annoyed now.

I can tell Baz is genuinely afraid. “What do you mean, he shares his face?”

“They look the same. Identical. Like twins, except my father was born in Puerto Rico. You can imagine a man like El Cucuy, who’s taken so many pains to keep his identity hidden wouldn’t want someone like me waving around a picture of his face all over town.”

“That’s why your father was given the assignment. He looked just like him?”

Baz nods. 

“How do you know they’re identical?” says Julian. He’s still not convinced.

“Because I saw HIM. I met HIM. They brought me to his house, and I begged him to let my father go.”

“He refused?” I ask.

“Yep. He said my father cost him a deal worth millions. He said he owns my father’s soul now.”

“You know where he lives?” asks Julian.

Baz nods, “He made me a deal. He said I can buy my dad’s soul back from him for a million dollars…”

“A million dollars?! Where the hell were you supposed to come up with that?” 

Baz drops his face in his hands. “I agreed to run some dope for him. He started me off with a couple of small transports. Everything was going good, so he gave me more product…”

“And?”

“And it got hijacked by another cartel. When I came back to tell him what happened, he was angry. Said I was taking advantage of his generosity. My father made him lose millions, now I was taking losses for him. He said I had to pay him back with interest now, and he won’t let me do any work for him anymore.”

“So you’re playing music on the street to buy your dad out of enslavement?” I say.

He shrugs. “I tried asking my aunt for help. But the CIA told her my dad was dead, and she thinks I’m just trying to swindle her out of drug money.”

“How do you know he’s alive?”

“El Cucuy likes to parade me around my father whenever I’m at his house. I think he’s trying to torture my dad, but at least we get to make sure we’re ok.”

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

“About three months ago. I’m behind on payments. He said he’d kill me if I showed up without all the money paid in full.”

“The million dollars?”

Baz shakes his head. “No, I owe $30,000 for the lost heroin.”

“Oh, Baz.” I want to hug him, but that’s probably the last thing he wants.

Julian leans forward, no emotion, all business. “Tell us where he lives, and if you’re not lying, we’ll give you the 30k.”

Baz raises his eyebrows. “You’d do that?”

Julian nods.

Baz cringes, “You know they’d never let you in, right? The guards wouldn’t let you past the doors. They don’t let strangers in, not ever. The only reason I was brought in was because of my dad’s picture.”

“We could pay for our girls,” I say.

Baz shrugs, “I don’t know if that’s enough. He was only letting me pay for my dad because my dad lost him money. Something tells me money isn’t why he took your girls.”

Julian leans back in exhaustion. “We don’t know why he took them.”

“We won’t find out unless we meet with him,” I say. “Baz, we’ll pay you the 30 grand to take us there tomorrow. If you can get us through the door, we’ll get you the million to get your dad back.”

“Alexis…” protests Julian. “We don’t even know if the Lázaros have the girls.”

“Who the hell else would take them? This is his pattern, Julian. Sonny got mixed up with the wrong people, and my baby girl is paying the price.”

“We don’t have a million dollars to give this kid!”

“Yes, we do. It might take some time to move things around, but we have it. And it’s not like Ava and Drew won’t help.”

“If we’re paying this kid a million dollars to get his dad back, how much do you think this Reaper guy is going to charge us for the girls?”

“It doesn’t matter! Scout and Avery are Cassadines, Jeromes, Quartermaines, Corinthos, and Morgans. If we had to pay a billion dollars to get my granddaughter home, I’d pay double!”

“So would I! But these people could just set us up, take all that money, and never give us our girls. We have to be smart about this!”

“We have to get our foot in the door! A million dollars is the least of what I’d pay for that.”

Julian rubs his face in his hands thinking things over. I know he’s not worried about the money. Why is he hesitating?

“I’m right, Julian. We need to get in there and talk to this guy.” I get out of my chair and kneel in front of him, pulling his hands down and holding his face in my hands so he’ll look at me. 

I see fear. And I get it.

“You don’t want me going in to meet this guy, do you?”

Julian shakes his head. “If you go in, you might never come out. I need you. Molly needs you.”

“Scout needs me more.” I kiss him on the forehead. “If Baz agrees, he’s taking me to the this guy’s house tomorrow. I’ll go without you if I have to.”

Julian gives a gentle shake of his head and pulls me in tight. “You know I’d never let you go alone.”

When I’m able to extricate myself from Julian’s grasp, I turn to Baz and ask, “What do you say? Will you try to get us in?”

Baz looks to me, then Julian, then back to me again. “I’m in.”

 

______________________

 

I didn’t want Baz to leave, but Julian convinced me to let him go. If he didn’t show up the next morning, then he was probably spinning a bunch of lies anyway, and we’d be no worse off that we are now.

I’m actually glad he’s gone once we’re alone. The reality of the precariousness of our situation is sinking in, and it’s making me needy for Julian.

But Julian’s preparing for tomorrow. I’m on the bed watching him count the $30,000 and put it in a satchel to give to Baz. He’s tense and agitated, and it’s doing nothing to calm my nerves. His movements around the room are heavy and unfocused, like his mind is running through every possible worst case scenario.

I do my best to calm him, so he can start calming me. “You know, this could end up working out well for all of us. The Reaper gets his money, Baz gets his dad, and we get our girls.”

Julian sighs. He finishes what he’s doing, then comes to me. “Alexis…” He sits next to me on the bed and holds my hand. “The more I think about this, the worse this course of action sounds. Do you really think this guy is going to let a man, who supposedly looks just like him, go free? A CIA agent who blew a million dollar deal?”

“It doesn’t sound likely,” I concede.

“If it were me, I’d have killed him a long time ago. I didn’t want to say it in front of the kid, but the only reason Baz is still alive is probably to keep his father in check. I guarantee you the Lázaros are threatening this agent with killing his son. I bet they’re torturing him, milking him for all the information he’s worth.”

I exhale in defeat. “But what other options do we have? What are we supposed to do?”

“We don’t have any other options. We’re spinning our wheels out here.”

“Then we have to try. We can’t do nothing.” I start crying again. I’m so tired of crying. 

Julian pulls me in his arms. “I wish I still had the power to force my way in and take her back. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“Do you think we’ll make it out of there tomorrow?”

Julian nods. “I have to think so, otherwise I’d never let you leave here.”

“I’d hate you if you kept me from my girl.”

“I know.”

“We’re going to be fine,” I say, trying to convince us both. I can’t lose Julian, too. I look in his eyes, and see the same thoughts reflecting back.

I realize this might be our last night together.

“Kiss me,” I say. And he does. Slow at first, but then I know he’s as desperate for me...maybe even more so, because he rolls me back on the bed and smothers me with his body. He pressing himself against me so hard, it’s like he’s trying to fuse our bodies together. 

And I love it. I love when he loves me this way. I love when he needs me this bad. Dammit, I dealt with him putting a knife to my throat, and I’m still craving more of this. I know I’m thinking crazy, but I can’t seem to care. I’m probably facing my death or abduction tomorrow, and it’s doing bizarre things to my brain. 

He strips my body bare, and I let him take me hard. I want the distraction. I need to feel what he’s giving me, because I’m afraid it’s the last thing I’m ever going to feel that’s not fear.

And I let him fuck me like this over and over and over, until his cock just isn’t working anymore and I’m falling asleep in exhaustion.

“I love you,” I say, just before I drift off. I think he says he loves me, too. Or maybe I’m dreaming. I don’t know.

 

_______________________

 

The cab drops us off in front of a property surrounded by enormous, white, Spanish-style walls. A heavy, iron gate shows the start of a driveway that winds into beautiful gardens. The grounds are so vast, no house or buildings can be seen from the gate.

Julian kisses me on the forehead to calm my fear. I almost suggest he do the same for Baz who seems more terrified than I am at the moment. 

An armed man comes out of a small gatehouse and eyes us expectantly. 

“Hola, señor,” says Baz. He speaks to the man for a moment in rapid Spanish. Then, he hands over the satchel of money we gave him in exchange for bringing us here. They exchange more words before the guard walks to the gatehouse with the bag. 

“He’s going to request the meeting,” says Baz

“Did you tell them who we were?” I ask.

“No. I just told them you were helping me with the money.”

The oppressive heat seems to be absorbing into my skin and clothes. I’m already sweating, and it’s only nine in the morning. The guard makes us wait a full twenty minutes before he comes back out. He’s carrying some sort of fabric in his hands.

“El jefe hablará contigo. Él es curioso acerca de tus amigos. Pueden ir contigo si llevan estos.”

Baz takes the money bag and the fabric from the man and turns to us. “He says you can come if you wear these. The boss is curious about you.”

I take the fabric from him and realize they’re hoods. Black hoods, of course, in the goddamn heat. I hand one to Julian and don the other. 

Julian’s hand finds mine. Our fingers entwine. I can see a little bit out of the bottom of the hood. And where there is enough light, I can make out blurry outlines of shapes through the small knit of the fabric.

The guard pats us all down roughly and thoroughly before letting us through.

“I’ll lead you,” says Baz. He hooks my free arm, and I pull Julian with me.

The driveway is made of cobblestones, and is long and winding. I take pride that I don’t trip the entire way, but that’s probably because my eyes are staring at the ground the whole time since it’s the only thing I can really see. 

We walk for what feels like a quarter of a mile, though, I must admit that since I’m not generally a walker, I’m a poor judge of distance. I shouldn’t have worn sandals, because the straps are digging into my feet. I wasn’t expecting a hike. At least I’m wearing flats.

“Steps,” says Baz. We scale a short but wide flight of stone steps, and when we reach the top, we’re in the shade, thank God. I want to wipe the sweat running down my temple, but I’m relying on Baz to guide me, and I refuse to let go of Julian even for a moment.

“Inside,” says Baz. He leads us through a large, heavy wooden door, and our feet land on a reddish, Spanish tile. It’s surprisingly cool and dry inside. “They’re taking us to El Jefe’s office.”

We file down a hallway. It’s not wide enough for all three of us to walk together, so Julian, still holding my hand, follows behind. Each step makes me more and more nervous. Each step gives me more and more hope.

A part of me is hoping I’ll see my baby girl, alive and well, waiting for me, ready to go when we enter the office.

Baz leads us into the center of a large room and stops abruptly. “He’s here” he whispers to us. Then louder, “Hola señor.”

“Hola, Sebastian.” The voice is deep and raspy. I sense curiosity in his greeting. “¿Quienes son tus amigos?”

“Ellos tienen dinero. Me están ayudando con mi padre.”

I hear a chair push back and can vaguely see a form stand up from a desk and walk around to meet us. In the darker indoors, I’m having a harder time seeing much of anything, but I can tell the man is tall, taller than Julian.

I think I hear Baz handing him the bag of money. “Treinta. Es todo.”

I hear the bag tossed aside, “No,” says the deep voice. “Eso no es todo.”

“No,” Baz whispers. I can hear the fear in his voice. I hold onto him tighter. “No, no, por favor, señor. Te pagué con intereses. Por favor.”

“Inflación.” 

Baz is pulled out of my grip. I can barely make out a shiny object reflecting light lift from the man’s hand up to Baz’s throat.

“No,” my voice catches in my throat. Julian’s pulled me tight into his side, and that’s the only reason my feet are still under me as my legs give out. I close my eyes, as if that matters, and hear the distinct sound of a heavy body hitting the floor.


	4. The Reaper of Souls

The Reaper of Souls

_______________

 

I hear gurgling, like when Danny used to play with his chocolate milk. Except I don’t laugh this time like I once laughed at my grandson. It’s everything I can do not to scream. 

I hear a cough and a sputter. A wheeze and more gurgling. Choking.

I don’t need the bag off my head to see what’s happening. It’s playing in my mind, as though I’m five years old watching Helena slit my mother’s throat, listening to her choke and drown in her own blood. At least her death was quick...not like this.

I want to talk to Baz. I want to tell him he’s going to be ok. I want to tell him I’m sorry for bringing him here. But I don’t speak. If I speak, I die. Another lesson from Helena. 

I’m frozen still as the beautiful, talented young man dies at my feet. I’m glad I can’t see his face. 

Julian squeezes me tight. He wants me to know I’m not alone. I’m not sure him being here is a comfort any longer...just another person I might lose.

It takes a moment to recognize the sensations at my feet. A warm wetness is coating my toes. I look down and can see out of the bottom of the hood. A dark, red, viscous fluid is seeping between my toes. 

Baz’s blood.

For a moment I just stare, feeling disconnected from the sight, mesmerized by how the color of the blood seems to change and lighten on my skin.

I hear a fearful whimper, and I don’t realize it’s me until Julian is pulling me from the puddle of blood. 

“Dale una toalla mojada,” says the deep, raspy voice to someone else in the room. I can hear bustling out the door as I shake in Julian’s arms. 

Why am I shaking? I’m a Cassadine for Christ’s sake! I’ve seen throats slit open. I’ve killed more than one person myself. What is wrong with me? Why is this man and his particular brand of violence affecting me like this?

“Sientate aqui, por favor,” says the voice with a softer tone, obviously talking to me and Julian. A chilling shudder racks through my body at the sound. He’s no longer the vague Cucuy of legend, but a real life boogeyman, a reaper of souls.

“We don’t speak Spanish,” says Julian. 

“Come sit,” he says quietly in perfect English. His voice sounds less raspy in English, but no less menacing in its softness. The voice is familiar, too. Maybe it’s that he’s a psychopath who will kill at any moment that makes him so familiar to me.

Footsteps come from behind - a guard perhaps - and a firm hand is on my shoulder pushing me forward. We bump into heavy, wooden chairs, and I’m able to feel my way into the seat.

“Sacar la basura,” says the man to another person in the room. “No quiero que apeste.”

More bustling tells me Baz’s body is being removed from the room. Determined not to listen to the sounds of death, I retreat as far inward as I can and search for a memory of Scout to get me through. 

My ignorance of my surroundings makes me jump in shock at a pair of gentle hands on my feet. Through the gaps in the fibers of the fabric, I can barely make out a woman on her hands and knees taking off my sandals and wiping away Baz’s blood. 

Julian’s hand finds mine again, and he holds it tight. He’s afraid of losing me.

When the woman is done cleaning my feet, and Baz’s body is out the door, the deep, raspy voice speaks again in English, this time I hear something new. “Who are you? Why have you come?”

And I’m stuck. Cold. Frozen. Unmoving. I lose track of Julian’s touch, and all I feel is fear. I realize now that I’ve been on the verge of panic since I first heard his voice. I know his voice. A part of me must have known right away, but didn’t fully register when he spoke Spanish; the language changed his tone, his cadence. But I know it now.

“No,” I exhale. My voice is so quiet, I don’t think anyone can hear, but Julian must because he squeezes my hand.

“We’re looking for two little girls,” said Julian. His voice was muffled with the bag over his head. “We were told you might know something about where they are.”

“Why would I know where they are?” 

It’s HIM.

“We were told you were the person who took them. We just want them back. We’ll do anything you want to bring them home.”

“That’s quite an accusation, that I’d steal little girls from their homes.” He spoke quiet and matter of fact. “I should kill you on the spot for insinuating such a thing. What reason would I possibly have for kidnapping little girls?”

We need to get out of here. If he finds out it’s me, we’re dead. “I’m sure we’re mistaken,” I say as soft and mouselike as I can muster. I don’t want him to recognize me. “We should go.”

“Go?” says Julian. “Ale…” I squeeze his hand to stop him from saying my name.

“We need to go,” I whisper. “Get us out of here.”

I can feel his hesitation. Scout and Avery are everything to Julian, but then, so am I.

“Oh, please,” HE says. “Stay. Let’s discuss why you’d fund my enemies to manipulate me into meeting with you.”

“That wasn’t what we were doing. We didn’t realize the kid was an enemy,” said Julian. “We just want to talk to you.”

“Then tell your companion to sit back and make herself comfortable while you explain this intrusion.”

“Sweetheart…” Julian whispers. I can hear the conflict in is voice. He wants to do what I ask, but he knows we’ll be killed if we don’t talk. We’re stuck. I give his hand a squeeze and sit back. Julian turns back to HIM. “My granddaughter and niece were abducted from New York. We were told by a friend you might know something about what happened. My wife and I wanted to see if this was true, and if so, offer you everything we have, everything the girls’ parents have, for their safe return.”

There’s an excruciating silence before the voice says, “I see.”

“And do you know anything of their disappearance?”

“I know nothing of the disappearance of any little girls. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

Julian exhales in frustration. “If I could just take off this hood…”

“Only if you want to lose your head,” HE interrupts. “I value my anonymity.”

“Why? You never leave this place anyway, what does it matter if people know who you are?”

“If you don’t know what I look like, how do you know I never leave?”

“Julian,” I whisper, afraid he might antagonize our host, “get us out of here.”

Julian holds my hand in both of his. I’m certain he’s trying to think of a way out with our necks intact.

“So, your name is Julian? And you’re from New York? Where exactly?” 

“My name is Julian Jerome. I’m from Port Charles.”

“I’ve heard of Port Charles. And I’ve heard of the name Jerome. You were once a formidable rival of Sonny Corinthos.”

“I was once. I’m no longer in the business.”

“You got out? Why?”

Julian squeezes my hand. “For love and family.”

“I heard about Mr. Corinthos’s recent demise. I would think this is the perfect opportunity for you to take back the territory.”

“I have no interest in the territory. I just want my granddaughter and my niece and what’s left of my family. Those girls belong to several very wealthy families. We’d be willing to pay ridiculous amounts of money for them.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. If I hear anything about two missing girls, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Of course.”

I can’t detect a lick of sincerity in his voice.

“And you, Mrs. Jerome? You’re awfully quiet.”

I don’t say anything. I feel beads of sweat running down the sides of my face in the hood. I pray to whatever god is willing to listen that he doesn’t have me take it off.

“What’s your name?”

“Natasha,” I whisper the first name that comes to my head. I can’t remember if HE ever knew my given name, or if he’d even remember, but I regret it immediately. 

“Natasha?” There’s humor in his voice. Does he know? What am I talking about...of course he knows. He probably knew the moment we showed up on the street in front of his house. He probably knew the moment we got off the plane. The moment we booked the ticket. “You have Russian ancestry?”

I shrug.

I hear HIM stand again and his footsteps come closer. I see his feet stop in front of Julian, and hear a rustle of movement. Julian inhales deeply, and I’m certain his hood has been removed. 

I wonder if this means we’ll be losing our heads.

HIS feet move in front of mine, and I look up through the fabric. Yes, I’m certain it’s HIM. Tall and fit, like he always was. And vicious, like his brother.

A large hand reaches up and touches my cheek.

“Get your hands off her,” Julian warns.

“Keep your mouth shut if you want to keep your tongue.” His voice stays quiet and calm as he makes his threats. I remember the first threat he made to me in the Quartermaine foyer all those years ago. I was terrified he’d hurt Kristina...was he finally responsible for her death after all these years? 

Rage starts simmering in my blood…

The man strokes my face with the softness of a lover, but I can feel the restrained tension in his hand. The anger and hostility. The juxtaposition is disturbing.

“Sweet Natasha,” his voice caresses my childhood name. “When did you know it was me?”

I swallow before I speak. I do all I can to keep my voice even. “I heard it in your voice.”

“And I can hear it in yours. I’m guessing you wouldn’t have come if you knew who I was?”

I shake my head. There’s no way in hell I’d be here. Not only because no one on Earth has wished for my death with more passion and vehemence than the man before me, but because Drew and Ava would probably be far more likely to get the girls back than I would from this particular person. 

My hood comes off, and there he is, looking so much like he did before. His face has changed a little - a few more lines here and there, a couple mild sun spots, some gray hair mixed with the black, and there’s even a scar on his cheek that wasn’t there before - but it’s unmistakably HIM.

“Lorenzo Alcazar.” My saying his name makes him real.

“Alexis Davis.” 

Now I guess I’m real to him, too. He strokes my face with his finger tips. He’s inspecting me, his blue eyes narrowed in concentration. I know I’ve changed, too. It’s been over a decade since we’ve seen each other.

I wonder what he sees. I’m having a hard time reading his face buried behind that beard. I think he’s smirking, but I’m certain his joy is entirely at my expense.

“How many times I’ve fantasized about having you here, just like this…” He’s staring down at me, now cradling my face. “The tortures I’ve dreamt up for you…”

“Lorenzo...please…”

“Say my name again, Alexis. Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed hearing it? No one says my name anymore.”

I stay quiet.

He narrows his eyes and his smile is gone. “Say it.”

I whisper reluctantly, “Lorenzo.”

He sighs a pleasant release.

“What should I do with you, Alexis? You and your...husband?”

“He’s not really my husband.”

Lorenzo smiles, “Oh, I know. You don’t think I’ve kept abreast of Sonny, Jason, and their rivals after all these years?”

“Did you kill them?”

“No.” 

“Do you have my granddaughter?”

“No.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t expect you to believe me.”

“They’re innocent little girls, Lorenzo.”

“I don’t hurt little girls, Alexis. When have you ever known me to hurt a little girl?”

I shake my head. I can’t think of a time. “But you’re known for abducting people.”

“I only take from others what they take from me.” He’s pushing the hair back from my face now, and he’s wiping the beads of sweat from my brow. I wonder if he’s thinking of what I took from him all those years ago.

“And Baz? What did he take from you?”

His eyes meet mine. “Aside from tens of thousands of dollars?”

“Which he paid you back, plus interest.”

“No, you paid his debt.” His hand drops to hold my chin still, the way a parent might to an errant child. “And you paid it too late. I can’t allow people to get behind on their debts.”

“Late payment was a reason to murder him?”

“You have no idea why I ended that young man’s life, so don’t presume to make assumptions.” He drops my chin and takes a step back. Whatever he’s trying to portray about his tolerance for my presence, I know the intensity of the hatred between us is too much for such close proximity.

“You’re torturing his father, aren’t you? That’s why you killed him.”

Lorenzo’s eyebrows shoot up. “You know about Tomas?”

I nod. 

“Yes, Tomas tried to kill me.” Lorenzo traces the scar down his cheek that disappears into his beard. “He made me lose an exorbitant amount of money in the process.”

“Is that why you killed his son?”

Lorenzo smiles as he speaks; his coldness has always terrified me, “That’s one of the reasons. Sebastian had a plethora of offenses against me - owing me money, impulsive decision-making, bringing enemies to my front door, a father who just won’t cooperate. That bright, young man was very stupid in all the wrong ways.”

“He didn’t deserve what you did to him.”

“Perhaps. But as I learned in Port Charles all those years ago, Ms. Davis, life isn’t always fair. We have to seek our own justice, or we never get it.”

I know he’s talking about Luis. This doesn’t bode well for me. “And that’s why you’ve taken to abducting people? Justice?”

Lorenzo smiles and moves back to sit on his desk. “I don’t know where you got his notion about me abducting people. If someone wrongs me, I right the situation. That’s all.”

“Sonny and Jason tried to kill you. We all thought they succeeded. Is that why you killed their families and took our babies?”

“Quit making accusations, Alexis.”

I close my mouth. I’m going to get myself killed. 

“I’m sorry you lost your children,” he says. “No parent, or grandparent for that matter, should ever lose a child.” 

He doesn’t look sorry. He looks angry. Then I’ve realized he’s lost a child, too. Diego.

Sam killed Diego, or at least tried to. Nikolas was the one that finally succeeded. But Nikolas is dead. Did Lorenzo kill Sam and take her child in vengeance? 

And Avery? Sonny tried to have him killed. Sonny took his life from him...Sonny was the reason he doesn’t have Lila Rae anymore. Did he kill Sonny and take his child in revenge, too?

Life for life. A soul for a soul. Scout and Avery for Diego and Lila Rae?

Or maybe he took Scout because I took Luis from him? Is this vengeance against me and Sonny? Sam and Sonny? All of us? 

“What do you plan on doing with us?” asks Julian. 

Lorenzo smiles softly. He’s getting off on his power over us. 

I hate him.

“I haven’t let an enemy see my face since my ‘death’ and let him leave to tell the tale.”

“You’re going to kill us?” I ask.

Lorenzo laughs. “Truthfully, I kept my identity secret so I could build my business without the interference of Sonny and Jason. Now that they’re gone, there really is no reason to conceal my identity. I have no reason to keep you here. You’re both free to go.”

I look to Julian, wary of Lorenzo’s generosity. It can’t be this easy.

“Just like that?” I ask. “You’re going to let me, of all people, come into your home, accuse you of stealing my granddaughter, then walk away knowing you’re alive, knowing where to find you?”

Lorenzo shrugs. “Why not?”

“Because I killed your brother!”

“Are you trying to convince me to keep you here? Are you growing fond of Mexico, Alexis? I must say, it’s not quite Venezuela, but I’ve grown quite accustomed to my new home.”

“I want to go home. And I want to go home with my baby girl.”

His look of indifference and tone of boredom is infuriating. “Well, I can only help you in one of those areas. You’re free to leave whenever you like.”

Julian grabs my arm. “Alexis. Come on.” 

I look at his face. I hadn’t realized just how afraid he’s been. He knows how much danger I’m in right now.

I nod. We need to leave. Maybe Drew will have more luck. Maybe we can find someone Lorenzo once cared about. A Quartermaine? Skye? 

And then it hits me...Lila Rae. We need to get to Lila Rae.

Julian stands with me and takes my hand. I give Lorenzo one last look to see if he’s bluffing about letting us leave. The smirk on his face tells me it’s not going to be that easy. 

As we get to the door, he says, “Oh, Alexis...One more thing.”

My stomach drops, and Julian steps between Lorenzo and me.

“Hmm?” I mumble.

“I do have someone in my possession you might be interested in.”

A look of pure evil joy takes over his face, and I feel ill. “A couple of years ago, I was alerted to the existence of a relative of yours. A bastard brother?”

Valentin.

“I contacted your brother, and asked for his assistance in helping me exact vengeance for the death of my son…”

I push Julian aside...I know where this is going...And for the first time since hearing Lorenzo’s cold, dark voice...I feel hope!

“...and your brother helped with no questions asked. You see, your brother benefited significantly from the absence of his greatest rival.”

“Nikolas…” I say. I can’t bring myself to ask if my nephew is still alive. 

Lorenzo turns to one of his guards. “Please bring the young prince.”

The guard nods and walks past me out the door. I’m desperate to follow. Julian has both of his hands on me, keeping me pinned to his body, terrified of losing me.

Lorenzo continues his game. “Your nephew took my son from me, and this was long after I saved Diego from your daughter’s bullet.”

I’m starting to panic, but the lawyer in me can’t help but state the obvious facts. “Your son was killing people. Your son killed Nikolas’s fiance. He killed Emily Quartermaine! Sweet, innocent Emily Quartermaine! And he was trying to kill Nikolas!”

Lorenzo’s face loses it’s humor. I know he was fond of the Quartermaines. I wonder if that changed after Skye betrayed him to Sonny and Jason.

“My son wasn’t the same after your daughter put a bullet in him. The offenses your family committed against my son are numerous, Ms. Davis.” His voice is calm, but his blue eyes are lit with a maniacal energy. 

“What have you done?”

“I found my own justice. Your nephew’s soul for my son’s.”

“No!” I feel the rage flow through my veins, much like the night I confronted Luis Alcazar, stabbed him, and threw him off the balcony. It’s a righteous rage. A vengeful rage. I can’t bring myself to remember the consequences of that rage, so I launch myself at Lorenzo to try to make him join his brother. I have no weapon - I didn’t with Luis either until I found that knife.

A large pair of arms wraps around me, and I can’t go anywhere. I try to fight them off. I need to kill that man!

“Alexis! Stop!” says Julian. “I need to get you out of here alive!”

Doesn’t he get it? I’m not the one who’s going to die! Lorenzo is!

Julian pushes me up against the wall, boxing me in, not letting me go. If it were anyone else, I might’ve killed them, too. I’m fighting him, hitting him, scratching him. He grabs my arms and pins me to the wall. His face is buried in my neck whispering to me. 

“I need you alive, sweetheart. Scout needs you. Stop. Please stop fighting. If you hurt him, they’ll kill you. Please stop!”

I’m sobbing against the wall, and I have to look away from Lorenzo who is so obviously enjoying my pain. Julian, on the other hand, is tortured. I stop fighting for his sake, and collapse in tears. Julian’s body against mine is the only thing keeping me upright.

I cry in Julian’s arms as we wait for the guards and my poor, tortured nephew.

“Aunt Alexis?”

“Nikolas?” I look up, and there he is! “Nikolas!” 

I launch myself at him, and this time Julian doesn’t stop me. My nephew’s arms embrace me, and he’s crying with me. 

My boy. The son I never had. The young man who endured his father with me, endured his grandmother, grieved his uncle with me. My boy.

I’ve lost almost everyone I’ve ever loved in my life - mother, sister, brother, nephew, friends, daughters, grandchildren - and finally, I get one back. My boy.

Only he’s not a boy anymore. He’s a man. He’s all grown up. But the way he holds me, he’s weak and frail. His life has been stolen from him by Lorenzo Alcazar. The fool they call the boogeyman. The Devil Himself.

I turn to Lorenzo, and the rage is back.

“This is all very touching,” says Lorenzo, smiling. “Very touching, indeed.”

“Don’t, Alexis.” Nikolas must feel me coiling up. “It’s worse if you fight him.”

I look to my nephew and see years of pain in his eyes. “What did he do to you?”

Nikolas just shakes his head. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about that. What are you doing here? How did you find out I’m alive? You should’ve just left me here.”

“I didn’t know you were alive, Nikolas. I thought Valentin killed you.” I stroke his face, so grateful to see him again.

“Then why are you here?”

“Scout’s missing. We’re looking for Scout.”

“Who’s Scout?”

He was ‘dead’ before she was born. “You’ve missed so much, Nikolas. Sam had a baby girl.”

Their reunion was interrupted by Lorenzo’s voice. “As sentimental as all this is, your intrusion did interrupt my schedule.”

I turn to Lorenzo. I don’t want to grovel. I’m too angry to grovel. But I love Nikolas more than my pride. “Please, let him come home with us.”

Lorenzo smiles wickedly. “I’m sorry, but what sort of justice would that be for my son if I let his murderer go free? As you said, the other person who nearly killed him is already dead, so you can’t trade your daughter’s life for your nephew.”

“Dead?” asks Nikoloas. “Daughter?”

I can’t get into that right now. “You know we have money,” I tell Lorenzo. “How much do you want? He’s the rightful heir to the Cassadine fortune.”

Lorenzo’s smile doesn’t skip a beat. “I have all the money I could possibly want. There is no price on justice.”

“I’ve offered him everything, Alexis,” says Nikolas. “He says only a soul is worth a soul.”

“What does that mean?” I say.

Lorenzo is really happy now. “It means, the only way I’d let Nikolas go, is if you gave me someone of equal or greater value to take his place.”

“Who?”

“No. Don’t,” says Nikolas. “Don’t play this game with him. If he’s letting you leave, just go.”

Lorenzo speaks over Nikolas. “Since he took my son from me, I’d take his son as payment.”

I scoff, “You’re out of your mind.”

Lorenzo shrugs, “Then say your goodbyes. I have business to attend to.”

Julian comes to me and whispers in my ear. “We know he’s alive. Let’s go home and figure out a way we can get him back. We need to regroup. We need to talk to Ava and Drew…”

I shake my head. “There’s only one way to get Nikolas home.” Then Nikolas will be heir. He can dethrone Valentin and help Julian get the girls back.

“Alexis…” Julian pleads. He knows what I’m thinking. “No, I won’t allow it.”

I hug Nikolas and Julian one more time, and as I do, I whisper in their ears, “Find Lila Rae Alcazar. Ned can help you. She can get our girls back.”

“No!” Julian pulls me in his arms. “No!” He’s yanking me toward the door.

“Take me, Lorenzo!” I say.

Julian can’t pull me through the door. There are guards in his way.

Lorenzo walks closer with that evil smirk on his face.

“Take me. I know you want me,” I say. I put everything into my argument that I’m more valuable to him than Nikolas, “I killed Luis. What good is punishing Nikolas when Diego was out of his mind. He was going to prison or he was going to get killed by someone else anyway. But not Luis. I went to Luis without provocation. I antagonized him. If I didn’t kill him, he’d still be alive. I know you want your justice. You’ve never been ok with his killer getting away with murder. Sage would want you to take me!”

Lorenzo’s grin drops from his face at my words, replaced by barely inhibited vehemence and rage. “I hope you understand what you’re offering, Ms. Davis.” It’s as though he can hardly contain his impulse to strangle me.

“Just let my nephew go. Do whatever you want with me.”

Lorenzo nods and looks to his guards. “It’s a deal.”

“No!” yells Julian.

“Get them out of here,” says Lorenzo.

“No! Take me!” says Julian. “Take me instead!”

“I have no use for you. You haven’t wronged me.”

“But I will! You have no idea what you’re doing taking her from me!”

Lorenzo smiles. “I’m curious to see what you think you can do to harm me.”

“Julian!” I kiss his cheek goodbye, then I whisper in his ear, “Lila. Get to Lila.”

“Alexis,” says Nikolas. He’s too weak to fight, but there is protest in his voice. “Don’t do this.”

“It’s already done.”

“I’ve accepted your aunt’s terms, Nikolas,” says Lorenzo. “There’s no more room for negotiation.”

Nikolas hugs me with a feeble grip, and whispers in my ear. “Don’t fight him, and don’t try to escape. Do whatever he says.”

I look at Nikolas’s defeated state. “Did you heed your own advice?”

He shakes his head, “And I paid the price.”

“I love you,” I tell him. “I love you,” I tell Julian.

Julian’s shaking his head. “No. I won’t let this happen. No. No.”

At a gesture from Lorenzo, his guards pull me away. I hear Julian yelling and fighting in protest as I’m taken down a long hall. Julian’s getting louder and louder...until he’s quiet.

“Is he ok?”

The guards say nothing.

“Is he ok? Did they hurt him?”

They push me forward without another word. We walk for what feels like ages across the massive building. I feel like every step I take is in slow motion, like Atreyu slugging through the swamp of sadness in the Neverending Story. Except, I don’t think I’m Atreyu in this story...I’m Artax.


	5. Captivity

Captivity

_______________

 

I’m alone in a cell, or a closet. I don’t know because it’s dark. There is a metal bucket in the corner, and I think I’m supposed to use it as a toilet, but someone’s already got it half filled, and I’m sick to my stomach. Maybe I can cover the smell of shit with my impending vomit.

Maybe this was where he kept Nikolas. Knowing it might have been Nikolas’s bucket of shit doesn’t make the smell any easier to endure. I can’t hold it any longer and finally vomit what little food I’ve eaten this morning into the bucket. I worry I won’t be able to fit my own waste into the bucket when the times comes with how full it’s getting.

There is no bed, no furniture, no windows, no nothing. Only the textured walls and cold, tiled floor. There aren’t even any lights in the room save for the cracks in the door. I’m shivering with cold as I shrink into the corner wiping spittle from my face, and wonder how the freezing temperature can be possible in this humid fire pit of a city.

Hours stretch by without any signs of life from the other side of the door. All I can think about is the sound of Julian’s yells abruptly ending. What happened to him? I’m desperate to know if he and Nikolas made it out ok.

“Hey, Nik.” The unexpected voice makes me squeak. “The guards are changing shifts, buddy. No one’s here. You doin’ ok in there?” 

“Excuse me?” I say. I look around my empty room. 

“Oh shit. I’m sorry. I thought you were the guy in there before.” The voice seems to be coming from a vent in the wall to my left. I shudder at its familiarity and the sense of déjà vu it gives me.

“Nikolas was here?”

“Yep. We’ve been neighbors for a few years now. What happened to him?” He sounded concerned. 

“I don’t know. Alcazar said he was going to let him go. I’m not so sure he did.”

“Alcazar? You know HIS name? You knew Nik?”

“I’m Nikolas’s aunt. I knew Alcazar from years ago.”

“Oh. You’re Alexis? You’re the one who killed the brother?”

“I’m sorry, but who are you?”

“My name is Tomas. Tomas Delgado. I’ve been a prisoner here for...fuck, I don’t even know how many years now. What year is it?”

“2019.”

He gives a quiet curse. “Six years then.”

I’ve figured out who he is and why his voice is so familiar. “You’re Sebastian’s father?” Lorenzo’s doppelganger. 

He goes quiet a moment. When he speaks again, and his voice is cautiously hopeful, “You know my son?”

I don’t know what to say. I don’t feel like I should be the one to tell this stranger what just happened to his child. “Yes. I did.”

“How is he? Does he look ok? Has he been eating?”

“Tomas...I’m sorry…”

Tomas gets quiet. I think he can probably hear it in my tone. 

“I’m so, so sorry.” I wish I knew better words.

“He’s dead?” his voice cracks.

I nod, but realize he can’t see me. “Yes. We helped him pay his debt, but Lorenzo just...He just…”

“How did he do it?”

I hate these words. I hate that I have to say them. But worse would be to hear them first from the man who murdered his son. “He cut his throat.”

“Fuck!” He lets out a growling, strained cry. “Fuck! That fucking bastard!”

Tomas doesn’t need to know what a slow and awful death it really was, so I don’t tell him.

“Did he say why?”

“He said it was for a lot of reasons. the money Baz owed, him leading me to Lorenzo, and...and…” I don’t want to tell him the other reason

“And because of me?”

I stay quiet. That’s confirmation enough. 

“Fucking shit! Nikolas said we shouldn’t try to escape again, but I convinced him we had nothing to lose.” He’s banging on the tile, and by the clattering sound, he might’ve kicked his metal bucket. “

“I’m so sorry.” I’m starting to hate those words, too.

“Don’t be sorry. My own hubris killed my son.”

“Lorenzo Alcazar killed your son.”

“And Alcazar killed Sebastian the same way I tried to kill him.”

The scar on Lorenzo’s face...Tomas must’ve missed. 

I don’t know what else to say, so we stop talking. We’re just crying.

The only thing worse than freezing to death in a dark cell smelling of shit and vomit is doing so while listening to the sound of a father grieving the loss of his son while you worry if three of the four people you care most about in the world are still breathing. 

We cry together for so long, I feel like I’m losing my mind. 

At least I don’t have to look at his face. If it’s as much like Lorenzo’s as Baz made it out to be, it would be twice the torture.

 

___________________

 

My bladder is full to bursting, and my stomach is empty of everything but whatever acid is left from all my dry heaving. This place is worse than anywhere Helena ever locked me away. She was, at the very least, civilized about things like excrement. 

Tomas is snoring in the cell next to mine. The inconsistent rumble of obstructed air is making it impossible to sleep. He’s worse than Julian. Not that I’d be able to sleep anyway feeling the way I do...physically...emotionally...mentally. 

How can I be so drained and so incapable of rest at the same time?

As much as I think I want out of this cell, the moment I hear keys opening my door, I’m internally begging for my keepers to stay away. 

The door opens, and lights shine in from the hall. I see a back lit outline of a man stepping in the doorway...Lorenzo.

“¿Quién chingados la puso aquí?” he says.

“No sé, señor,” says the guard.

Lorenzo comes in the room and stops in his tracks when the smell hits him. “Dear God.”

I try pushing myself deeper into the corner away from him. I feel like a beaten dog, cornered and afraid, with no fight left in me. I don’t think I can take any of his tortures right now.

He bends down and inspects me. I avoid his gaze; I don’t want to see those cold, blue, mocking eyes.

“Come,” he says.

“What are you going to do to me?”

“I’m going to find you some alternate accommodations.” 

The thought almost humors me. “You mean a room with an EMPTY shit bucket?” 

I must be delirious, but for some reason, I thought he’d laugh. He doesn’t seem to find joy in my filthy humor. 

Lorenzo stands and holds a hand out to me. There’s no way in hell I’d ever accept a hand up from him. I stand on my own, though it’s not easy. I’m terrified I’m going to wet myself. I’ll probably end up with a UTI, at the very least.

“Follow me,” he says. 

I reluctantly do as he commands. The artificial light hurts my eyes, and it takes me a moment to adjust. My frozen limbs are warming outside of the cell, and even if he put me back in the same place, at least I have a chance to thaw.

Lorenzo’s walking in front of me with that long, arrogant stride. I’m half running to keep up with him. He takes me up the stairs and to the right. If I didn’t have more baser needs to focus on, I would be doing a better job of absorbing my surroundings, learning as much as I can about my environment. But, really, it’s all I can do to put one foot in front of the other and move in the right direction. 

We stop at a door that seems to be at the far end of the building...or house?...or villa? I’m not quite sure. Lorenzo unlocks the door with a large key and opens it up. He gestures me in before him.

He’s brought me to a large room, a suite really. To the right is a big, beautiful bed, and to the left is a dining table, a sitting area, and a television. A large, heavy wooden desk is in the corner with nothing but a phone on it. A bookshelf sits next to it, but there are no books waiting to be read.

The lack of personal touches to the room tells me this isn’t where he sleeps.

But more importantly at that moment, there is a door that leads to an en suite bathroom. I take off at a run, and damn the consequences. I bypass the enormous bathtub and shower for the toilet. It’s pleasantly empty of anyone else’s waste, and I rush to relieve myself.

When I exit the bathroom, I find Lorenzo sitting on the couch with a cocktail in his hand. I scan the room again and find a small bar at the other end, complete with a sink and a little refrigerator and freezer. 

This room seems it should be in some fancy hotel in Cabo. It’s dark outside, but beyond some French doors that lead to a balcony, there are glittering lights around an enormous and beautiful courtyard. I can see a patio, obviously built for entertaining sizable parties, an asymmetrical pool with waterfalls and a hot tub, and tropical trees and flowers surrounding it all. 

“Would you like a drink?” he asks. His polite tone takes me off guard. It’s lacking the derision with which he normally speaks to me.

I shake my head. I don’t tell him I’m an alcoholic. He doesn’t need to know all my weaknesses quite yet.

“Have a seat.” He gestures to the sofa in front of him. I follow his direction, and I’m pleased the fancy furniture is actually comfortable, but being in a seated position on such soft cushions reminds me how tired I am. I force myself to stay awake.

“Julian and Nikolas?” I ask.

Lorenzo purses his lips as he considers what he wants to say. He takes a drink before he responds. “Your nephew and your ex-husband were dropped off at your hotel room shortly after you were escorted away. My understanding is they both decided to seek medical care at the local hospital.”

“What did you do to them?”

“Nothing they didn’t deserve.”

“From what I’ve seen of how you treat your...guests,” she thought of the cell she just spent most of the day and part of the night in, “I can only imagine.”

Lorenzo looked down and actually seemed ashamed. “I have to apologize for how you were treated when you left my presence today. I assumed my men had the brains to place you in a room more suited to human habitation. Apparently, I overestimated the intelligence and intuition of the brutes in my employ.”

“Is that where Nikolas was kept?”

Lorenzo looks up to my eyes. His voice is steel when he responds, “Yes, it was. He earned those accommodations with his defiance.”

“As did Tomas Delgado? Wasn’t killing his son enough?”

Lorenzo clenches his jaw, and I can see the muscles twitching in his face. I can only imagine the self-restraint it’s taking him to have this civilized conversation with me.

“Tomas Delgado is none of your business, and you’d do well to forget about him. His influence did Nikolas no favors during his stay here.”

“During his captivity, you mean.”

He swirls the ice around his drink. “Ms. Davis, I suggest you allow me my illusions of hospitality. I can’t imagine you’d want to return to the room lacking modern plumbing and electricity.”

“Are you telling me this is my room?”

He nods, “For the rest of your life...unless you choose your nephew’s path of defiance. I understand the tortures of being away from the people you love for eternity; therefore, I see no need to impose additional punishments unless you earn them.”

I look around the room and nod. There are worse ways to be imprisoned, as I’ve recently discovered.

“A few ground rules,” he continues. “First and foremost, don’t even think about escaping. It’s impossible, and it makes me very angry.”

I already knew that.

“Second, you’ll be confined to your room. Third, you earn your privileges here. Good behavior may lead to supervised time on the grounds, books, entertainment, and possibly even written communication with your daughter.”

That thought gives me a little hope. I do my best to reign it in. I can’t afford hope.

“Fourth, you can ask for anything you like at any time you like. If it’s a reasonable request, my staff will do what they can to fulfill it for you. That includes any housekeeping needs you may have. There is a phone on the desk that only allows calls to extensions in this villa. I have housekeeping, the kitchens, and my private number already programmed for you.”

His number? I can’t imagine a time I’d ever need to use that.

“Please let me know if my staff doesn’t treat you with courtesy and dignity.”

As though keeping me locked away from everyone I love is courteous and dignified? I keep my mouth shut.

“I hope you don’t mind the intrusion, but I had your things brought from your hotel room. They’re put away in the closet and the bathroom. I’ve taken the liberty of keeping your purse, which contains your passport and wallet. I left the money at the hotel for Mr. Jerome. Don’t hesitate to ask housekeeping for additional clothing or hygiene needs as you require them.”

I do my best to accept this new reality, however temporary or permanent, but I can’t seem to assimilate the fundamental contradictions of Lorenzo’s treatment of me. My mind is a tangled, knotted thread of confusion, and I know I won’t get any clarity without getting sleep. I close my eyes to sort through my dissonance, and I can’t seem to open them again.

“I can only imagine how exhausted you must be.” 

I open my eyes enough to see Lorenzo stand up. They’re closed again before he speaks his final words to me.

“I’ll leave you alone for tonight and check on you tomorrow to see how the staff is treating you.”

I keep my eyes close and don’t acknowledge his words.

He takes a deep breath and quietly says, “I’m truly sorry they put you in that cell. Goodnight.”

I’m asleep before I hear the door close.

 

_________________________

 

I wake up around four in the morning slumped over on the couch. I realize I haven’t washed my body or brushed my teeth since yesterday morning. I’m too tired to care. And I’m too tired to get in bed. I find the energy to yank off my bra and pull my legs up on the couch, then I fall asleep again.

 

_________________________

 

“Alexis?”

I’m shaking. No, I’m not shaking. The words ‘I’m shaking’ imply the shake is coming from somewhere internal. Someone else is doing the shaking.

“Alexis?”

The shake is coming from a hand on my shoulder.

Prying my eyes open is a difficult task. But I do it because I recognize the voice calling me to consciousness, and that voice connects directly to my amygdala who screams DANGER to my hypothalamus, who, in turn, demands my adrenal glands jolt my body awake and get ready to fight for my life.

I sit up and look for Lorenzo. He’s inches from my face. I can’t recognize his expression. 

“Hello,” he says.

I don’t answer. I just back away to the far corner of the couch.

“Have you moved since I left you yesterday?”

I press the heels of my hands to my forehead and try to remember the last forty-eight hours. When I do, I try to forget.

“I checked with my staff, and they said you haven’t asked for anything to eat. I called before I came, but you didn’t answer the phone.”

I shake my head to clear out the lingering sleep and the overwhelming panic. Before I can think of a response to him, fundamental biological needs kick in. 

“Excuse me,” I say as I scurry to the bathroom. I take a moment to brush my teeth and wash my face before heading back out. 

Lorenzo is directing a woman to carry a tray of food to the coffee table. It has an assortment of fruits, vegetables, crackers, and pastries. There’s also a thermal carafe, and I’m guessing it’s coffee. 

I realize I’m starving, and much of my exhaustion is probably due to caffeine withdrawal.

I refuse to say thank you, but I accept an offered cup of coffee, and snatch up a piece of bread with some sort of white and pink sugary topping.

The bread is sweet and warm, and the coffee is black and strong. I let out a moan of contentment, and I can see a small smile on his face. Unfortunately, I think he takes that as the gratitude I’m refusing to overtly express.

“Did you sleep the whole day? Or were you ignoring my hospitality?”

“I just woke up.”

“You didn’t even change, I see.” He reaches under the coffee table and hooks my bra and lifts it for his inspection. I try not to be mortified at the condition it’s in...he’s the reason it’s as gross as it is.

He tosses the bra aside, and I think he might be checking out my boobs in my white blouse. I cover them by curling my legs up and holding my coffee cup with both hands.

“Why are you here?” I ask. 

“I just wanted to make sure my staff was treating you well after yesterday, but it seems they haven’t had the opportunity to treat you at all.”

“Why does it matter to you? Don’t you hate me? Isn’t this your revenge?”

“I want my revenge, Alexis, but I’m not sadistic.”

“That’s news to me.” I look at my bare feet that still carry traces of Baz’s blood.

He’s irritated with me, now. That makes me even more irritated with him. I say, “Did you think that putting me in a fancy suite and bringing me food and coffee would make me forget what you’re doing to me? You think I’m going to be grateful to my captor?”

“Would you prefer I behave like an asshole?”

“It would at least be congruent.”

“That’s right, I forgot how you like to be treated like shit,” he says cold as ice. “Sonny, Ric...and that ex-husband of yours. He tried to kill you right? And just yesterday you’re telling him how much you love him before you sacrifice yourself for your nephew.”

“Is this therapy a free part of my incarceration? Are you offering relational rehabilitation along with my atonement?”

His eyes sear into mine...for a moment I think he might laugh, but his face remains impassive. “If you’d prefer me to be more neglectful, I’d be happy to oblige. You certainly make it easy to hate you.”

I wonder if he’s channeling Helena and Stavros. I just sip my coffee and try to show indifference.

Lorenzo turns and leaves without another word. For some reason, I like that he could leave so abruptly. No goodbye, no closing insult, he’s just gone.

I drink what’s left of my coffee in one go before I lay down and do my best to fall back asleep.

 

______________________

 

I literally couldn’t sleep more if I was given a truckload of Ambien. I’ve been here for three days now, and this is the first time I’ve been up for an actual breakfast in the morning. I’m getting used to being waited on hand and foot by the household staff, and the cooks here are pretty damn good. 

It took me two days to fully appreciate the beauty of the room Lorenzo has me locked up in. My favorite part about it is the large, rounded balcony. It not only overlooks the courtyard, but I can glimpse the Pacific Ocean not far from the property. 

This morning, I’m eating my breakfast on the balcony, hoping some natural sunlight will give me some degree of life. I notice a handful of other balconies just like mine overlooking the courtyard, but none are occupied at this time. Either all his other prisoners are currently indoors, or maybe they’re empty.

There’s a particularly large balcony directly across the courtyard from mine. I wonder if it’s a room for large meetings or parties or something. He obviously conducts most of his business here.

Just as I’m ready to go back inside, I see Lorenzo stepping out of the double doors to the large balcony. He’s wearing a dark grey suit, and a pale, blue button up shirt. The first place he looks is to my balcony. His eyes find me watching him. He’s far away, so I’m not sure if the smirk I think I see is real.

Lorenzo moves to a spiral staircase leads down to the courtyard. I notice my balcony doesn’t have such an exit. He doesn’t look at me again, but I watch him cross to the large patio where several people are waiting for him. I recognize two of the men as his guards from the day I arrived. 

I recognize the third man, too. He’s the man from the warehouse down by the docks. They man I visited with Julian. What was his name? Martinez? No, Márquez. The guy with his feet on the table and the guards who couldn’t keep their eyes off my boobs and ass.

They have a quiet conversation. I bet Julian would be infuriated with Márquez being here when he refused to give us information on how to find our girls. I’m no longer angry with Márquez now I know who he’s dealing with.

I watch their conversation get heated, and Márquez seems to be apologizing and deferring to Lorenzo. 

Lorenzo turns away from the man in irritation. He looks up to my balcony. He’s angry, I’m certain of that. I can see the heat radiating off him. But the longer our eyes stay locked, I see his face shifting. A smirk is playing across his features...the same smirk I thought I saw earlier. It’s ominous and foreboding. 

Márquez is behind him, still talking, obviously pleading. Lorenzo keeps his eyes on me as he reaches into his coat and pulls out a long serrated knife.

“No,” I whisper. I know better than to interfere. I know better! But fuck, I can’t just sit and watch what I know is going to happen. “Run Márquez.” I whisper. But I know he can’t hear me. I’m a coward.

That sick grin is pure evil. And all at once, before I can decide to do anything, Lorenzo pivots on the ball of his foot and sticks the knife straight in Márquez’s heart.

For a moment Márquez is quiet and still. Lorenzo pulls Márquez closer, twisting and turning the knife. 

“No,” I whisper again. “No…”

Lorenzo yanks out the knife, and Márquez drops to the floor. Blood is pouring out of his body, and Lorenzo is standing over the body with the bloody knife. His feet are in the middle of the growing dark puddle of death. 

I look down at my own feet...I see Baz’s blood seeping between my toes…

I look up, and it’s my mother on the floor in a puddle of her own blood, Helena standing over her…Helena turns around...Except she’s Lorenzo. 

His blue shirt is now soaking wet and dark purple. He’s wiping the blood off the knife onto his jacket sleeve as he watches me stare. 

I don’t even realize I’m going to be sick; my body just bends over, and my stomach upends the first breakfast I’ve had in days. 

When I look up again, Márquez is being carried away and Lorenzo’s removing his bloody jacket and shirt; I don’t know why he does it, his chest is still covered in red, even without the soiled clothes.

I can’t stand the look in his eyes. They’re filled with that maniacal energy, the same fire as when he told me about Nikolas. I back away to my room. Except I can’t be in my room. I can’t stand to be in this house. How many more dead bodies am I going to see?

How many times am I going to have to relive my mother’s death?

Baz’s death…

I don’t want to be here anymore. I can’t be near HIM. I need to go! I need to get out!

I run to the door. It’s locked. I push and push with my shoulder, but it’s made of heavy wood, and I’ll probably break my arm before I break down the door. 

The phone…

I call housekeeping. “There’s vomit on the floor…”

She comes quickly. She’s worried I’m sick. El Jefe wants me taken care of…

I send her to clean the balcony…

I run out the open door.

I’m already lost. I didn’t pay attention to which way I should go when I was brought into the room. I was so sick and tired. I’m still so sick and tired. I run down the hall and turn a corner. A dead end. I run back and find another place to turn…

I find stairs. I fly down the stairs...no...I’m falling down them. 

My ankle hurts when try to get up, but I think I recognize where I am and I can get to the front door from here. I think it’s just around the corner. I hobble on my twisted foot...shit! It must’ve been a different staircase...I turn back and run down another hall and around another corner…

I run face first into a bare, bloody chest. It’s firm and masculine, and my nose is smashed in pain. I reach up to touch it...it’s bleeding...or maybe it’s not my blood.

I look up to find Lorenzo staring at me in frustration.

I can’t help my tears. I don’t want to be here! 

My legs give way…

Lorenzo grabs me before I hit the floor, pulling me into his bloody body. “I don’t want to be here!”

He grabs my chin and turns my face up to his. “Yes you do. You begged me, Natasha. Remember? You WANT to be here.”

I’m sobbing and shaking my head. I HATE HIM!

Lorenzo lifts me up into his arms. I only let him, because I can’t move. I can’t fight. All I can do is cry. I think it’s the fear. 

He carries me down the hall. 

It’s not the way to my room.

I recognize this hall.

“NO!” I say. “NO! Not again!”

I’m fighting now, but it’s useless. How did I kill Luis? I can’t even make Lorenzo flinch.

He waits for a guard to unlock a door. THAT door. He carries me inside and sets me on the cold, tile floor.

I try to grab his shirt, but he’s not wearing one. I think I’m pulling on his skin and hair. “NO! Please, Lorenzo. No!”

“STOP!” he cracks. I’ve made him really angry now. “STOP IT, WOMAN!”

I let him go and push away. I’m afraid he’s going to pull out that knife again. 

“Fucking shit!” he says, touching his chest. I think I’ve scratched him. “Si no fueras tan hermosa I would’ve had you beaten for this!”

I’m cowering in the corner, and he looks absolutely terrifying standing over me. He’s more than six feet tall, blood drying, smudged and dripping from his chest. That bloody chest is puffed out, shoulders are back, and his hands are in tight fists.

I’m afraid he might hit me.

A moment later, he exhales slowly and deflates. He looks disgusted...I don’t know if it’s with me, or with himself. Both maybe. It doesn’t matter.

I try not to cry, but I can’t stop.

“Alexis, please…” his voice cracks. 

I just sob more. I want him to go. He can keep me in this shit room for all I care. I just want him away from me. 

He steps toward me and bends down. He grabs my face in both his hands so I’m forced to look at him. 

He looks like he’s in pain.

That asshole.

“Don’t ever try to escape again. Don’t make me do this to you. I don’t want to keep you here.”

I turn my head and face the wall. I hate him watching me cry.

He sighs in frustration and walks away. The door closes and locks behind me.


	6. Reacquainting

Reacquainting 

_______________

 

“What happened, Alexis?” says Tomas. His voice is worried and somber.

I scoot over to the grate so I can hear him better. This twisted ankle isn’t making it easy. Now that my adrenaline crashed, the pain and swelling are setting in. “I tried to run away.”

“You don’t want to do that,” he states the obvious. 

“It was stupid, I know. I wasn’t thinking. I just watched him kill someone, and I lost it.” 

“I’m sorry, Alexis. Just remember, the last time I ran...lets just say a few broken ribs hurts a lot more than it sounds...and don’t forget what he did to my son.”

I can’t forget that. I wish I could. “You think he’d hurt me like that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe not. From what he said, it doesn’t sound he wants to harm you. Maybe there’s a line he won’t cross.”

“‘From what he said?’ What do you mean by that?”

“When he was yelling at you, he said, ‘Si no fueras tan hermosa, I would’ve had you beaten for this.’ Do you speak Spanish?”

“No.” 

“You should probably try to learn. Depending how long you stay down here, maybe I’ll give you lessons.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means, ‘If you weren’t so beautiful, I would’ve beaten you for this.’”

That takes me off guard. Why on Earth would he say that? Why would he be thinking that, especially in that moment?

Tomas continues, “I’ve never heard him so angry before. Alcazar’s rage is usually cold and calculated. Even when he was breaking my ribs. You lit a fire in his ass. You must be pretty damn gorgeous to do that to him.” 

I chuckle without any joy, “Are you flirting with me, Tomas?”

“Only if it’s making you feel better.”

“Thank you for trying to make me feel better.”

“No more escapes, huh?”

“No more escapes.”

It’s so cold, I bet I’d be able to see my breath if there was any light in the room. I lay my ankle on the freezing tile to try to stop the swelling.

“Is it weird,” I ask, “seeing your face on him?”

Tomas laughs. “Weird. Disturbing. All I can think about is the last thing my son saw in this life was my face murdering him.”

“I’m surprised Alcazar doesn’t consider your face too beautiful to beat up.”

“Ha!”

I’m pleased I got a laugh out of him.

“No, Alexis, I think there’s an obvious reason he’s disgusted when he sees my face…”

I sigh. Tomas is probably right about Lorenzo’s self-hatred. No sense stewing over it though. “Tell me, Tomas. What would you do if you ever got your freedom?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Probably go to Llanview, Pennsylvania. My sister and niece live there. They’re all the family I have left. How about you?”

I think of Scout. “I’d find my little girl and bring her home…”

A clattering of keys sounds outside my door, then I hear it click open. Maybe I’m not pretty enough to avoid that beating after all.

It’s Lorenzo again. He doesn’t seem angry anymore, thank God. 

“Come on, let’s get you to your room.” His voice is a low rumble. 

“But it’s only been a few hours since you put me in here.” Being near him is making me nervous. A part of me would rather not go back to my room rather than see him again. 

“Come on, Alexis. I’m not going to hurt you.”

I huff, and he grunts. 

“Fine. You can sleep here tonight if you’d rather…”

“I’ll come,” I interject. Part of me feels guilty for leaving Tomas behind, but I really don’t want to use the metal bucket with this messed up foot, and I feel an urgency to go...

Lorenzo stands and waits for me to follow. I struggle on my hurt foot and fall back to the floor. “Ow!”

He moves to my side and lets more light shine in the room. My ankle is swollen something awful, and part of it is turning black and purple. He bends down and his warm hands cradle my foot. I want to pull it away, but I know it would hurt terribly to do so, and to be honest, the warm touch is soothing.

“Who did this to you?” he speaks with a low, venomous hiss. “Did someone come in this room while I was gone?”

“I did it to myself. I fell down the stairs when I was running.”

Lorenzo hangs his head and avoids my gaze. It’s hard for me to believe he’s ashamed of himself. I mean, he doesn’t bother with shame for what he’s doing to Tomas. He doesn’t even acknowledge his existence.

“I’m sorry,” he rumbles quietly.

I don’t want to tell him he’s forgiven. He’s not.

“Let me take you upstairs?”

I nod again. He gently places my foot back on the ground. He moves to my side and puts one hand around my back and the other under my legs. I put an arm around his neck to steady myself as he stands.

I’m surprised by the ease of which he lifts me. I shouldn’t be, he carried me just fine while I was hitting him and scratching him earlier today. 

He tells a guard to get me some painkillers and a wrap before we go. I pay attention this time as he carries me down the halls. I focus on where he turns and which staircase to take. I have no plans of attempted escape again, but I should know my surroundings.

“How’s your ankle?” he asks when we get to the top of the stairs.

“Tender.” 

He smirks in dark amusement, “I couldn’t tell when you were kicking me with it earlier.”

“Neither could I.” I look down at his chest. “Did I hurt you?”

“You left your mark.”

That pleases me.

When we get to my door, it’s almost nothing for him to shift my weight and turn the knob.

“It’s not locked?”

“Are you planning on running again?”

I shake my head. It’s not like I could with this foot anyway.

He carries me to bed. I haven’t slept in the bed yet. I haven’t even sat down on it yet. For some reason, I’ve been sleeping on the couch since I arrived. I’m not certain if it’s the nights on the sofa, or if is the day I spent in the cell, but the bed is the softest, most comfortable surface I’ve ever felt in my life.

Lorenzo stacks pillows behind my head, and places one under my injured foot to elevate it. Then, he goes to my closet in search of something, but comes out empty-handed.

“Don’t you have pajamas, or anything to sleep in?” he says.

No. I came to Mexico with Julian. There was no reason to have clothes for sleeping. I just shake my head.

“I see.”

A man comes in with some ibuprofen and a wrap for my ankle. He hands it to Lorenzo and leaves the room shutting the door behind him. Lorenzo gets me a glass of water and ibuprofen. Then he grabs a hand towel from the bar and places ice in the center. He wraps it up and comes back to the bed.

“May I?” he asks, sitting by my foot.

I don’t answer. I don’t know how to deal with his sudden need to be my caretaker. He does what he wants anyway. 

I suck in a breath when he sets the ice on my foot. It’s cold, and it does nothing for the pain, but I know it’ll help in the long run once the swelling is under control.

“Is this ok?”

“It’s fine.” It’s not. It’s uncomfortable.

Lorenzo adjusts the ice pack to make sure it’s covering the right places. When he’s satisfied, he lifts his eyes to mine. There’s a softness there that’s disconcerting. I want to reject it, but I’ve found I don’t like the consequences of upsetting Lorenzo. I ignore a thought intruding that I have an innate, fundamental, human desire for kindness, especially when I’m hurt and alone.

“Why did you run?”

I look at him like he’s crazy for not understanding. “I was afraid.”

“I scared you?”

“Wasn’t that the point of killing that man in front of me?”

“Part of the reason, I guess. I had to kill him anyway, and you were already there.”

“Well, how convenient. It worked.”

“Unfortunately, I guess it did.” 

Why do his eyes seem...what is that expression? Sad? 

“What do you mean, ‘unfortunately?’” I ask.

“Believe it or not, I don’t want to hurt you, Alexis.”

“No, you just want to torture me with slicing people up in front of me?”

He shakes his head. He looks as confused as I am. “I wanted to treat you the way I’d treat anyone else who’s wronged me...but it’s different with you.”

“How?”

He stands up and moves away. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

He scratches his beard in frustration. 

“What’s different?” I push.

He shakes his head.

“Lorenzo?!”

“I feel guilty, ok?” He’s angry I made him tell me. “I feel like an asshole.”

“You are an asshole. You should feel guilty.”

He nods. “This has been my life for so long, I forget how fucked up it is sometimes. For some reason, you make me remember...”

“Why feel guilty with me, and not Tomas or Nikolas or Julian or Márquez? Is it because I’m a woman?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“And what about my granddaughter? She’s just a little girl.”

His eyes bear into mine. “I didn’t have anything to do with her disappearance.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I know.”

He comes back and sits down next to my ankle again. His hand gently holds my foot as he says, “I’m sorry for killing Márquez in front of you. I won’t do anything like that again if I can help it. I honestly didn’t think you’d react so strongly, and I didn’t think I’d feel this shitty about it.”

“Shitty about killing him?”

“No, shitty you were scared.”

“What did you expect, Lorenzo? This is the second person you’ve killed in a week right in front of me after putting my nephew and ex-husband in the hospital. And with that knife...all I see is my mother’s throat slit open, and her blood all over the floor…”

“What?” He looks horrified.

“What you did to Baz. That’s how Helena killed my mother when I was five.”

“You witnessed that at five?”

I wonder why he’s so shocked. “I’m sure you saw your fair share of violence before preschool.”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“But you’re a man and you men can handle such things?”

He shrugs and adjusts my ice pack. “So, no more running?”

“No more knives?”

“Deal.” He looks up with those sad, blue eyes. He can’t seem to hold the eye contact and looks away, changing the subject. “I noticed your granddaughter was named after Emily Quartermaine?”

I nod.

“I always liked Emily. She was very kind to me. I cared for her...for all the Quartermaines, even though some of them would never believe it.”

“Diego killed her,” I feel the need to point out.

“I know.” His eyes are so damn sad. He sighs and looks back up to me. “How are the Quartermaines doing?”

“Well, Michael and Danny were murdered on Christmas day, and Scout was taken...they’re just peachy.”

“How’s Dillon? I liked Dillon very much...and Tracy.”

“They were at the funeral. Both were well.”

Lorenzo stays quiet, but I can tell he has something more to say. I don’t need him to ask...it’s obvious.

“You’re wondering about Skye and Lila?”

He nods. “I keep a distant eye on them, but it’s been years since I’ve seen them.”

“I had to talk to Skye at the funeral.”

He chuckles, “‘Had to…’”

“We’re not each other’s favorite people.”

“I remember.”

“She sounded well. Lila’s fine. She’s a beautiful, kind girl.”

Lorenzo moves the ice pack to underneath my ankle. He’s being very pensive, and I’m certain is has nothing to do with my injury, and everything to do with Lila.

“She doesn’t belong in this world,” I feel the need to say. “She doesn’t need to see the things we’ve seen.”

I hear him swallow. “Which is exactly why she’s with her mother in Europe, and thinks her father is dead. I won’t ruin her.”

“Ruin her? Does that mean you’re trying to ‘ruin’ me?”

He looks up and finds my eyes. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Tell me.”

“Lila...she’s like a little mockingbird.”

I’m surprised by his reference. I often forget he’s well read. “To Kill a Mockingbird?”

His blue eyes glitter when he thinks of his daughter. “Yeah...it’s the worst sort of crime to kill such innocence.”

“My granddaughter’s name is Emily Scout Cain, you know.”

He smiles. “She was named for the book?”

“No. Her brother named her for the dog.”

Lorenzo barks a laugh. I can’t help but chuckle, too. I stop myself, though. He’s not my friend.

“Of course, as a lawyer and activist, I have to believe Danny was the vehicle to deliver Scout her perfect name. My little Mockingbird.”

The glittering light leaves his eyes. “I’m sorry she was taken from her family. Miss Emily Scout.”

I can’t help the tear falling from my eye. I wipe it away, and say, “Me too. But there is no reason for you to be sorry if you didn’t do it.”

“Can’t I be sorry anyway?”

His kindness is giving me as much anxiety as his hatred. “Look at you...you’ve apologized for my foot, for scaring me, and for my lost granddaughter. I bet you didn’t anticipate your vengeance would come with so much pity and apology.”

“I guess I didn’t.”

“You don’t think you can spare some of that pity for Tomas?”

His lip curls in a sneer and he pushes away from my foot. “Tomas Delgado paraded around this town pretending to be me. And after ruining a business deal I spent months working on, he tried to slit my throat...you know, the way your mother was killed? Sorry, Alexis, but I have no pity for the CIA assassin who set out to destroy my life.”

I don’t say I wish Tomas succeeded, but I’m certain he sees it in my eyes. I remind him what we are to each other. “I didn’t set out to destroy your life, but I did kill your brother.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“Then why are you here taking care of me? I’m your prisoner, Lorenzo. We’re not playing house.”

He rolls his eyes to the ceiling in frustration, “You make it impossible to pretend otherwise.”

“Why would you want to?”

“I don’t.”

“Then don’t act like it.”

He looks angrily down his nose at me. “How you survived your stepmother with that insolence, I’ll never understand.” He turns on his heel and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

I don’t hear a turn of the lock, and I’m guessing he doesn’t have much faith in my ability to run with my foot in its current state. 

I reach down and remove the ice, tossing it aside, not caring about it melting on the floor. I grab the wrap and inspect the stretchy material. I don’t know what the hell to do with this. Maybe I should’ve waited until after he wrapped my foot to drive him away. 

And maybe I should’ve asked him to help me to the restroom, too.

I give up and lean back with tears filling my eyes. The throbbing pain hasn’t been affected by the drugs yet, and now I’m worried about my bladder.

As I’m wallowing in self-pity, the door opens once again. Lorenzo barges back in, no less frustrated with me. He’s carrying a set of crutches and a large t-shirt. He leans the crutches against the nightstand, and he tosses the t-shirt at me. It’s plain black and carries his scent.

He sits back at the foot of the bed and grabs the wrap out of my hand. I brace myself for rough man-handling of my ankle, but he’s surprisingly gentle. He wraps my foot in a practiced way, swirling the fabric around my heel and ankle until it’s tightly compressed and I can’t move it.

He sets it back elevated on the pillow and stalks off to the other side of the room. He grabs the handset to the phone and comes back. He places it on the nightstand within my reach.

He speaks without looking at me. His voice is quiet and short. “Call housekeeping if you need something. And since you seem incapable of making good decisions for yourself, I’ll have them bring food and a few other necessities more regularly.”

I really don’t understand what’s motivating him, and the uncertainty of this mercurial man in front of me is sending my own emotions spiraling. I stifle my anger and operate off fear, since that seems to get more of my basic needs met. I nod in acknowledgement.

He turns to leave once again, but I have to stop him…“Lorenzo.”

“What?” He sounds impatient and refuses to look at me.

“As much as I appreciate the crutches, I’m concerned it’s going to take some time to master them…”

“And?”

“And…” I can’t believe I have to say this, “I have more urgent needs at the moment. I couldn’t use your bucket with this foot feeling the way it does.”

He nods and still doesn’t look at me, but at least he comes back to help me to the bathroom. It’s all very awkward as neither one of us wants to be near the other, but at least he’s not rough.

Thank God he leaves the bathroom to let me relieve myself in peace. I call for him when I’m done and he carries me back to bed, arranging my foot just so.

He leaves my side without a word. When he’s at the door, I have a compulsion to say thank you, but I know that’s just the manners Stefan instilled in me, and not what I really want to do at the moment. I keep my mouth shut.

He walks out the door with only the briefest frustrated glance in my direction.


	7. Opportunity

Opportunity

_______________

 

“No...no...don’t push her!” I tell the TV. I’m appalled that this poor pregnant woman is about to be pushed down the stairs. I rub my healing ankle remembering my own fall, and don’t wish this inconvenience on anyone...even if the tramp is fictional and she slept with her best friend’s husband and got knocked up.

She pushes her. As I watch the stunt woman tumble down the stairs, I decide I’ve had enough of my new favorite novela. Apparently, I have so much free time to watch that much TV, in a language I don’t know, that I actually have a favorite telenovela. I turn the TV off and make my way outside. 

I think I’m getting better at maneuvering with my crutches, but it might just be that my ankle is healing after a long and frustrating week. 

I sit on a chaise on the balcony to watch the sunset over the ocean. This is one of those times I wish I could have a drink. It’s not so much that I’m craving the alcohol, it’s that I’m craving the idea of it. I want a margarita or a piña colada to pretend I’m not being held against my will, but rather, on an extended vacation on a secluded Mexican beach. 

It’s the most beautiful night with a gorgeous pink, purple, and blue sky. I wish I was seeing it with Julian.

Thinking of Julian hurts my chest and makes me want that drink even more. 

I know the kitchen would bring me anything I ask for…

Maybe I should...I mean, the reason I got sober was because I needed my family and my career, and drinking was ruining that. I don’t have to worry about those things anymore.

But what if I got free of here and had to start from scratch? What if I missed an opportunity to get out of here because I was loaded or passed out?

I hear a knock on the door, but I don’t get up to answer it. There’s no need. They’ll come in anyway, per Lorenzo’s orders. He’s insistent I have dinner brought to me every night. 

I don’t understand why he cares. I haven’t seen him in over a week, and that’s fine with me. 

But, God, it’s been a long week. I’m bored out of my mind. And boredom leads to racing thoughts about Scout. All I have to entertain me is the stupid television that I can’t even understand and the beautiful sunsets. If Lorenzo doesn’t come check on me soon, I’ll have to call him to beg for books or internet access or something.

The knock sounds again. I’m surprised they even tried to knock the second time. They usually just come right in if I don’t answer. Perhaps they’re being polite tonight. I close my eyes and stretch myself out on the chaise.

I hear the door open and clumsy footsteps walk into the room. Those aren’t my normal staff’s footsteps. My eyes open as a man steps onto the balcony. 

“Lorenzo?”

He sets a tray of food down on the table and sits on one of the chairs. “I knocked. You didn’t let me in.” 

His words are slightly slurred. I see a bottle of whiskey on my dinner tray. “You’ve been drinking?” I’m immediately irritated with him. 

He shrugs as he pours a glass for himself. “I nearly dropped your dinner trying to get in,” he says accusingly, as though it’s my fault I’m locked in here, and that he decided to be my servant on what was probably his second bottle of whiskey.

“Since when does the master of the house decide to feed the prisoners?”

His answer is to tip the entire drink back in one shot. 

“That doesn’t look like a good idea.” I can’t believe I’m the one telling someone else that drinking excessively has consequences.

He shrugs and pours another.

“Seriously, why are you here?”

“I haven’t checked on you for some time. I figured a visit was due.”

“Why do you care how I’m doing?”

“I don’t know.” He drinks again.

“You should probably eat some food with that.”

“Come,” he pats the seat next to him. “I’ll eat if you eat with me.”

My initial reaction is to encourage him to go to hell, but sense gets the better of me when I realize that he might be more likely to make a slip about Scout with a little lubricant on his brain. I move even more clumsily than him from the chaise to the seat next to him. 

There is way too much food, as usual. I pick up a roll of bread which I’ve learned is called a bolillo and I hand it to him, hoping the bread works like a sponge on his liquor. He grabs the roll and takes a bite.

I pick up my fork and start in on the shrimp cocktail.

“You’re losing weight,” he says.

“Incarceration does wonders for appetite suppression. I should sell it back in the states.”

He doesn’t laugh, though I think my joke is funny.

“You should eat more.”

“I can stand to lose a few pounds, Lorenzo. It’s not a big deal.”

“I disagree.”

I give a mirthless chuckle, “You must’ve been a wreck being married to Carly with how thin she was. Did you mother her to eat all the time? Or do you just prefer your prisoners fattened up, and your lovers slim?”

Lorenzo grins mischievously. “You want to have a conversation about ex-lovers, Alexis? I’ve done my research on you, and you have a far more flavorful history than I do.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. He’s right. 

“Let’s see...you were divorcing Ric last I was in town. After that, I found articles online about you, the DA, dating Jerry Jacks of all people?” Lorenzo laughed. “That bastard held a gun to my head on more than one occassion.”

Too bad he didn’t shoot, I say in my head. 

“And I saw you dated the police commissioner, Mac Scorpio, when you killed that young boy who hurt Kristina. You got off on that conveniently, didn’t you?”

I sigh deeply, knowing it never ends well to engage with a drunk.

“Oh, and I saw this clip from Access Port Charles that talked about you being too busy to work because you spent all your time ‘sexing up’ mob kingpin Julian Jerome.” 

He’s really enjoying himself now. And I really want to slap him. “Shut up.”

“And those adorable pictures of Eddie’s Angel…”

I pick up another roll of bread and throw it at him, but he’s still laughing at me. “Fine!” I say. “No more Carly comments.”

Lorenzo’s laughter fades to a small smile. He takes a drink, and he’s serious now. Pensive even. That’s never a good sign for a drunk man. 

He says, “You know, I hated you so much when I came into town, I never really thought of you as a sexual being. I saw you as tough, matronly, and sexually repressed.”

I narrow my eyes thinking back to our previous interactions. I distinctly remembered him looking down my blouse more than once when I was bent over an interrogation table. “Liar.”

Lorenzo stares at me, seemingly affronted by my accusation. Then, suddenly, he barks out a laugh that’s way too enthusiastic. 

“You’re right,” he says more sincerely this time. “I’ve always hated how beautiful you are. You surprised me the first day I met you. I expected a great, big hag of a woman to be my brother’s killer. Then, I show up to the Quartermaine house, and you’re there, with your small frame and your dark eyes. I couldn’t put the murderer and the lovely woman before me together...too much dissonance.”

“You seemed to menace me just fine. Apparently my ‘beauty’ only increased your hostility.”

“Of course, it did. You think I’d be happy being attracted to my brother’s murderer?”

That takes me off guard. “You’re attracted to me?”

“Come on, Alexis. I’m a man. I have eyes. You’re saying you were never attracted to me?”

His words force me to look him up and down. In truth, it’s not my first time doing so. Lorenzo is tall, broad, and fit, with stunning blue eyes, a confidence in his gait, and a hypnotic, deep voice. How could I not find him attractive? He doesn’t need to know that, though. “I’ve been afraid of you since the day I met you. It doesn’t inspire much in the way of arousal.”

He smiles. “Liar.”

“My, you’re arrogant.”

“No, just a little intoxicated.” He tips his glass to me before shooting it back.

“What’s got you drinking so much tonight?”

He stares at me from the corner of his eye as he pours again.

“Is it the overwhelming guilt of what you’re doing to me?” I ask.

He chuckles and shakes his head.

“Is it your uncontrollable attraction to me?” I laugh.

He forces a smile and takes a drink. His reaction, or lack thereof stops my laughter. I narrow my eyes at him. He couldn’t possibly be THAT affected by me...could he?

“Or, maybe,” I continue, “It’s your guilt over what your doing to my granddaughter.”

He looks me in the eye and tilts his head. “You really think me capable of slaughtering a family and stealing their little girls?”

My eyebrows raise, “After what I’ve seen you do since I’ve been here? I do think you capable.”

“My children have both been taken from me, Alexis. Though I may have no qualms of inflicting that kind of pain on my enemies, I couldn’t do that to the innocents...the mockingbirds.”

The softness of his tone, and the pain in his voice has me wanting to believe him. I don’t, of course. He’s a cold-blooded murderer, and lying is nothing to him. 

Then again, could he lie so well while intoxicated? Perhaps not.

He sips his glass ignoring his bolillo.

I have another thought. “If you didn’t take Scout and Avery...could you find out who did?”

He looks at me lazily. “Now, why would I do that?”

“To protect the mockingbirds?”

“I won’t hurt the innocents, Alexis, but that doesn’t mean I have any interest in being their savior. Sonny had a habit of pissing off the most dangerous people in the world. Why would I make them my enemies? What’s in it for me?”

“More money than you could imagine.”

“I already have more money than I know what to do with. And I’m one hell of a businessman, making money is as easy as breathing.”

“You really are a cold-blooded asshole, aren’t you?”

He shrugs.

I look away from him. It’s dark out already, and I’m just getting depressed with this conversation. I’m done entertaining the drunk. I stand up and go inside, regretting I didn’t take his whiskey with me as I stumble with the crutches to the couch.

I watch him from my perch on the sofa. His eyes are closed and his breath is slowing. I think he might be getting ready to pass out. The thought of his face falling into my dinner amuses me.

Unfortunately, I don’t get the pleasure of his embarrassment. He opens his eyes and stands up unsteadily. He fills his glass and makes his way back into the room.

“You should eat,” he says.

I try not to answer - I’m too damn angry that he either has Scout, or he won’t help me find her...worse yet, he’s keeping me from finding her - but I can’t help myself, “If you gave a shit about me, you’d help me find my girls, not tell me to finish my dinner. So, stop pretending to care.”

He sits on the couch opposite me, “Who says I care? Maybe I just want you to eat because I like the look of you more voluptuous than all these angles and bones.”

“Are you trying to make me uncomfortable?”

“Don’t worry, Ms. Davis. I won’t touch, but you can’t blame me for looking.”

I have a sick thought. It’s not the first time I’ve had it, though before it was just in passing…

I stand up and limp around to sit next to him on the couch. I take the whiskey from his hands and bring it to my lips. I’m going to need it. The booze gives my mouth a burning pleasure. I’m not used to it anymore. I refrain from coughing and sputtering and swallow with a painful gulp. 

I know it will be awhile before the alcohol hits my brain, so maybe it’s the high I’m getting from the thought of drinking, or the thought of what I’m planning, but a buzz is taking over my head giving me the courage to say what I need to say. 

His eyes are on my lips. He really does like watching me.

I take one more drink and say, “And what if I LET you touch me?”

His eyes narrow at me and his head tilts. He scratches his beard with the back of his hand - I think I’m recognizing that gesture might be some sort of tell...maybe nerves...maybe arousal.

I bring the glass to his mouth and let him drink from where my lips once touched the glass.

“You’d do that, Ms Davis? You’d let me fuck you to get your girl back?”

I don’t say anything, but of course, I would. 

He sighs deep and considers the idea. “So, what?” His hand traces up my bare arm slowly. He’s gentle and my body responds, the only unpleasantness is the person to whom the touch belongs. He catches my chin with his fingers. His eyes are painfully beautiful this close, and they’re staring at me with obvious heat. “Is a blowjob worth me making some phone calls to look for her? Is access to your cunt worth a trip to South America or Europe or wherever they have her? Is your ass worth a mob war?”

He lets go of my chin in disgust. “No, thank you,” he says. “I don’t coerce women into sex. Not even my brother’s killer.”

I can’t help my sigh of relief even as I’m angry he didn’t accept my offer. 

But what I do know now...he can make some phone calls. If he doesn’t have her, he could find out who does. He could help me get her back if he wanted. 

How do I make him want it? 

I toss back the rest of the whiskey.

How do I make him want to give me what I need?

And it hits me...he has been trying...I’ve been rejecting him. Maybe I started too big.

I stand up and hobble outside to refill his glass. I bring what’s left of his bolillo and sit back next to him on the couch. 

I take a drink of the whiskey before handing it back to him. He holds the glass, rimming the edge with his finger. Though I’m not hungry, I tear a piece off the bread and put it in my mouth. 

His drunk face can’t seem to keep the same impassivity as his sober one, and I can see he’s pleased I’m eating.

“Thank you,” I say.

“For what?”

“For not taking advantage of me. If I slept with you, you probably wouldn’t get me my girl anyway, and I’d feel used and heart-broken with nothing to show for it.”

He shrugs off my gratitude like a good chivalrous man who doesn’t think he should have a thank you for not coercing me into sex. Funny, seeing him this way seems to bring back some of the chivalry I’d forgotten from all those years ago in Port Charles...like when he went out into that hurricane to get help for me and Molly...I can’t believe I’d forgotten about that.

“Since you won’t sleep with me or help me save my grandbaby, can I ask something else of you? A couple somethings?”

He purses his lips and considers what I’m saying. I hope he’s too drunk to figure out what I’m doing. Finally, he nods.

“Can you bring me some books? The New York Times? Something to keep my mind off Scout?” I don’t need to fake the tear forming in the corner of my eye.

He nods. “Your shelves will be filled tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

It’s nice to know he won’t reject my gratitude in the right circumstances.

“One more thing?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I...never mind…” I look away, playing the part.

He lifts my chin. “Ask me, Alexis." I can tell he wants to give me what he feels he can.

“Can I go down to visit Tomas tomorrow?”

He drops my chin looking disappointed. I grab his hand back to plead my case. “Come on, Lorenzo. Just a few minutes. To say hello. Your guards will be there.”

“He’s being punished, Alexis. He doesn’t deserve to see you.”

“It’s not for him. It’s for me.”

“Why do you want to see him?”

She laughs, “Because I have no one to talk to. I spin my wheels all day thinking about my kidnapped granddaughter in the hands of whatever madman killed the rest of my family, and I want a break from all that. You wonder why I don’t feel like eating when all I picture are the horrors Scout is facing.”

“Alexis,” his voice breaks. 

“I just want to spend a few minutes talking to someone who isn’t paid to wait on me.”

He pouts. “You can talk to me.”

“You haven’t been here for a week.”

He drinks again.

“Please, Lorenzo.”

“He’s a bad influence, Alexis. He’ll try to convince you to help him get out of here.”

“I’m no fool. I learned my lesson. I have no desire to run, or help him do it either. I just want a friend.”

He looks angry at my request. Maybe more so that he’s even considering it. 

I rub the back of his hand with my thumb. I see his eyes drop to watch me touch him. 

“Please…”

“Fine, you can have ten minutes with him tomorrow. My guard will be watching.”

I can’t help the grin that takes over my face. I see the slightest lift of the corner of Lorenzo’s mouth when he sees my joy. Only, he doesn’t know my joy is not over getting books and seeing Tomas. My joy is knowing I might just find a way to get what I really want from him in the future...

“Thank you,” I say. I think about kissing him, but I’m certain it’s going to far. He needs to think my feelings are reluctant.

“You’re welcome.” 

I don’t kiss him, but I do look as his lips. They’re moist from his drink. If I didn’t hate the man, and if I wasn’t in love with another, I’d certainly be tempted…

As it is, I look up at his eyes, and he’s watching me watch him...and I know he wants me.

He shoots back his drink and says, “I really hate how beautiful your are.”


	8. Vulnerability

Vulnerability

_______________

 

I remember the way to Tomas’s room. I take my time getting there because I want to pay attention to as much of the villa as I can. That, and I’m carrying a bag of food for the poor guy while limping around with my crutches. I notice a nice sitting room around the corner from the hallway that leads to Tomas’s room.

When I get to the hall, a big guard is standing next to Tomas’s door. Lorenzo must really be nervous about our meeting if he thought that mountain of a man was necessary to watch over us. I stop in front of him and wait. I know he knows why I’m here. I heard Lorenzo make the call himself.

He gives me a look that tells me exactly what he thinks of opening the door. I raise an eyebrow at him in challenge. He snarls before grabbing the key from his pocket. He unlocks the door and waves me in.

“Excuse me?” There is no way I’m going in that room. 

“You’re allowed to visit the prisoner. He’s not allowed out of his cell.”

“And if I tell Lorenzo you tried to put me in that room again? Then what?”

The man seems angry, and I can’t, for the life of me, understand why. He looks me up and down, as though measuring me up...or checking me out, I don’t know which. 

I lift my chin and stare down my nose at him, just as Helena taught me to do. I’m using so many of her lessons in this place.

“We’ll be going to the sitting room down the hall. If you have a problem with that, I suggest you discuss that with your boss.”

I hear a shuffle in the room and turn my head to the door. A tall, hairy, and smelly man is coming to the threshold. He reeks of body odor and filth.

But those eyes. Those beautiful, blue eyes. Lorenzo’s eyes.

And Lorenzo’s face. But with a lot more grime and much longer hair and beard.

“Hello, Alexis,” he says. He’s surprised to see me. Hell, he’s probably surprised his door is open. 

I shake my head at the sound of his voice...It’s just like Lorenzo talking to me...or Luis. I have to force myself to remember his actual name. “Hello, Tomas.”

I turn to the guard. “You’re welcome to join us.”

I don’t wait for a response, I just start walking off, if you can call what I’m doing with my injured foot ‘walking.’

Tomas catches up to me in a few, easy strides. I smile up at him, and I can make out a pleasant grin beneath his wild beard. He takes the bag from my hand so I can more easily use my crutches. 

I take pleasure from Tomas’s dirty clothes soiling Lorenzo’s expensive furniture. Even though I don’t know the man very well, I sit close to him. My body craves the closeness of a friend...an ally.

I see the guard standing in the doorway watching.

“You look EXACTLY like him,” I say in wonder.

“Not exactly,” he rumbles in Lorenzo’s voice. “I don’t have a scar on my cheek.” He smiles, proud of the damage he inflicted. “And then there’s this…”

Tomas rolls up his sleeve to show me his forearm. The word, “DELGADO” is tattooed in plain block letters.

“Your label?” I ask.

Tomas nods. “He wanted to make sure no one ever confused us again, especially his own men.”

“How long has it been since you’ve been out of that room?”

He shrugs. His posture is more relaxed than Lorenzo, less stiff. His speech is less precise, too. “I stopped counting after Baz was killed, but it’s been weeks.”

I empty out all the food I brought in the bag. Tomas looks like he wants to devour it all at once, but he’s being a gentleman.

“Go on,” I say.

He grabs the pan dulce takes a big bite. I hand him a thermos of cold horchata to wash it down, and he actually moans in pleasure. 

“How did you get Alcazar to agree to this?” 

“I asked him nicely. I told him I’m lonely.”

Tomas raises an eyebrow. “He must really think you’re THAT beautiful. You have no idea how much he hates me.”

I shrug.

“You are, you know,” he says. His blue eyes are glittering sweetly. I really like the way they crinkle up at the corners.

“What?”

“THAT beautiful.”

I laugh self-consciously and change the subject. “We only have a few minutes, so eat up.”

He shakes his head, “I’d rather the company than the food.”

I think I’d be smitten with this man if he didn’t look like my captor. Or worse yet, I’d be smitten with my captor if he didn’t kidnap me.

“Have the two of you done a DNA test?” I say. “Was it triplets instead of twins? It’s uncanny.”

Tomas shrugs. “I don’t know if he has. I don’t want to know if we’re related, to be honest.”

Tomas reaches out to grab my hand, but pulls back before he touches me. I can tell he doesn’t want to be presumptuous. I place my hand in his, and it wins me more glittering eyes.

“Seriously, Alexis. What did this visit cost you?”

I shake my head, “Nothing. I think he has a little crush on me and wants to make me happy.” I lower my voice to be certain the guard can’t hear from so far away. “I think that’s something I can take advantage of.”

Tomas’s eyes lose their light and he shakes his head. He speaks low and harsh as he squeezes my hand, “Don’t, Alexis. Don’t. This is not a man to play with. If he knows you’re taking advantage of him…”

I shrug off his concerns. “I have to do something. I’m not a ‘do nothing’ kind of woman.”

“He’s evil. He’s a liar. You can’t trust him. He’s probably the one playing some sort of game on you. He lives to torture his enemies. And make no mistake, you are an enemy. You killed his brother. You’re here because Nikolas killed his son. In his twisted head, he needs to make you atone for your sins against him.”

“Look, Tomas, I can’t explain it. I think he likes me. Really likes me. And I think he hates himself for it. It wouldn’t be a stretch for him to believe I feel the same.”

Tomas sighs and rubs his beard just like Lorenzo does.

“I don’t have anything to lose, Tomas, and I have everything to gain.”

“You’d be surprised what you have to lose...he has your granddaughter.”

That’s a punch to the gut. “Maybe.”

“Maybe? Do you have any doubt?”

“A million doubts, and a million doubts of those doubts. I’m assuming he has her, but either way, my move is the same…”

“What’s that?”

I shrug. “I’m going to get my baby back one way or another. Whatever it takes.” His face registers the sexual implication. “If he has her, he’ll hand her over. If he doesn’t have her, he’ll help me get her.”

“And if he does neither?”

“Then I’m no worse off.”

“Unless he figures out what you’re doing.”

“How could he?”

“I don’t know. But don’t underestimate him.”

I square my shoulders, “Don’t underestimate me.”

Tomas sighs in defeat and concedes, “Something tells me you’ve seen worse than Lorenzo Alcazar in your life.”

“You have no idea.”

“Ok, then, let me help you. I have experience in espionage. Tell me your strategy.”

“Lorenzo seems to like taking care of me for some inexplicable reason. When I fight him, he’s awful to me. The more I allow him to do things for me, the more leeway he gives.”

Tomas looks at my foot. “That seems a convenient method of getting him to take care of you.”

I shrug, “It’ll be better soon, though. I have to think of something new.” 

Tomas considers my words. “You knew him before all this, right?”

“Yes, for a few years in Port Charles.”

“Nikolas said he was married. He had a kid. Any patterns in his relationships?”

“Yes, but,” I shake my head emphatically, “I can’t be like those women. They are NOTHING like me. He’d know I was pretending.”

“What were they like?”

How does one explain Carly and Skye? “Do you know much about personality disorders?”

He nods. I’m sure they’re basic curriculum at the CIA’s Farm.

“Both were probably fully diagnosable as Histrionic and Borderline Personality Disorders, with some Narcissistic and Antisocial traits.”

Tomas chuckles. “That doesn’t surprise me with this asshole. I bet you couldn’t fake it you tried.”

I’m pleased with his assessment. “His wife was a chronic victim, and he seemed to care for her more than his baby’s mother. Carly’s toughened up in the later part of her life, but when they were together, he was constantly saving her...most of the time from herself.”

“Since you’re obviously no victim and clearly independently capable, I bet it feels all the more powerful when you give him some dependence willingly. I bet he gets off on that.”

“He sounds a bit controlling, doesn’t he?”

Tomas laughs and looks around their prison. I can’t help but laugh, too.

He holds my hand in both of his. The humor drops off his face. “You know what it would mean if this works, right? You’re willing to sleep with him?”

“Would you have slept with someone to save Baz?”

“No hesitation.”

I shrug, “I’ll do whatever needs to be done, too.”

He squeezes my hands, “Then prepare yourself, Alexis. Sex with someone you hate or fear is not as easy at it sounds. He’s a calculating and sadistic man, and you don’t know what that will translate to in the bedroom. And if you want to sell this charade, you’re going to have to force yourself to LIKE it. Alcazar is studious and thoughtful, even though he has a few screws loose, so he’ll know if you’re miserable. You can’t allow yourself to be miserable, whatever he does to you.”

I bite my lip...I never thought about it like that.

“Can you handle it if he gets aggressive?”

I swallow. “I guess I’ll have to.”

Tears threaten to fall from my eyes.

Tomas touches my cheek in the sweetest way. I have a ridiculous thought. “Maybe I’ll just pretend he’s you.”

He smiles sadly, “Now you’re the one trying to make me feel better.”

It’s my turn to squeeze his hands. There’s something beautiful about touching another human...about being touched. It’s been weeks since I’ve been touched. 

“You know,” I admit, “I’m actually more afraid of liking it than I am of hating it.”

“Keep those fears, Alexis. It would be a terrible thing to grow an attachment to a man capable of doing what he did to my son.”

I watch tears fill his eyes. His grief is still so raw. I wipe the moisture threatening to drip down, and he leans into my touch.

“I’m so sorry about, Baz. Are you holding up ok?”

“Yeah, I still have a few reasons to keep going.” I notice his eyes move over to the door. He stays looking over there as he speaks, “And as the Existentialists say, if I have a ‘why’ for living, I can endure any ‘how,’ or something like that.”

“That’s an impressive thought. What’s your ‘why?’”

A voice sounds behind me making me jump. “His sister Téa and his niece Daniella are his reasons for behaving.”

I turn in shock, wondering how long Lorenzo has been standing behind me. Tomas gives me a little wink to let me know he just walked up. We’re safe.

“You scared me,” I say, turning to Lorenzo.

Lorenzo is staring daggers at Tomas, the threat about Tomas’s sister and niece still hanging in the air between them. 

“I think your ten minutes are up, Ms. Davis.” I note the formality in Lorenzo’s tone and wonder if there’s jealousy there.

I quickly pack up the food in the bag and give it to Tomas, hoping Lorenzo won’t object. I give Tomas’s hand a squeeze and whisper, “See you later.”

I turn to Lorenzo and beam at him, trying to distract him from his quiet rage. His eyes shift from Tomas to me, and I think his face might lose some animosity.

“Thank you for letting me do this,” I say. I try not to make my tone too cloyingly sweet, but I want him to know he made me happy. 

He dips his head in the smallest of nods. 

Tomas stands, and I look between the two identical men. It’s a strange juxtaposition of circumstance having Lorenzo and Tomas fill the same space. One is wearing at least a couple thousand dollars in clothes, who smells of the finest cologne, and stands stiff, with the most impeccable posture, while the other is in rags, with long hair, covered in grime, and smelling of a life lived in squalor and filth.

But their similarities far outway their differences.

I don’t let my mind linger too long on the unfairness of Tomas’s plight, otherwise my own rage at Lorenzo will manifest, contrary to my plan I’ve been so carefully crafting. Instead, I focus on gratitude for his gift in order to get him and his sadism away from my new friend.

I touch his arm and say, “Are you here to escort me to my room?” 

“Of course.” Lorenzo looks to his guard ensuring that Tomas will be taken immediately back to his cell.

I grab my crutches and make my way to the stairs. I don’t allow myself one last look at Tomas, fearful of how Lorenzo might take out his agitation. When I get to the stairs, I stop and huff, thinking about the challenge of climbing upward on this ankle.

“May I?” Lorenzo asks, still so formal.

I look to him, and his hands are open. He wants to carry me up. I nod in agreement.

He snags my crutches, and somehow scoops me up along with them. I hold onto his neck so I don’t fall…

I think about touching Tomas earlier, and remember how nice it was to feel someone’s skin. I wonder when the last time was that Lorenzo was touched. He probably has women brought to his room all the time more than eager to do so. Then, again, maybe not. 

Either way, it’s always nice to be touched. My fingers move just under his collar to the soft part of his skin on the side of his neck. He slows a moment midway up the steps, and I think I can feel him leaning into my hand. Aside from that, his expression is unreadable. I wish he had another fifth of whiskey in his blood to help me read his reaction.

“Are you feeling ok today?” I ask.

He looks down at me in question. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

I curl my lips a little, “The whiskey.”

He smiles. “I’m fine.”

When we get to the top of the stairs, I think he’s going to set me back down, but he just keeps walking to my room. Maybe he likes my hands on his skin.

I feel a rush of exhilaration that this could be working. I force myself to withhold from caressing him. I can’t take this too far too fast.

When he gets me in my room, he asks, “Where would you like to go?”

“The couch. My afternoon novelas should be on soon.”

He smiles a little and takes me where I please. The ease in which he sets me down reminds me just how strong he is...I don’t have a chance in hell of fighting this man off if he ever became angry with me…

Except I’ve done it before...with Luis.

“Can I get a look at this ankle?” he says.

“Sure.” 

His sits next to me, and he has to pick up both of my feet because of the angle. He rests them on his lap, and starts to remove the wrapping. 

His gentle hands are always so surprising, and I wonder if he’s that way in bed. Somehow, I doubt it. I’ve seen the heat in his eyes before. I’m certain Tomas’s warnings are closer to reality.

“The bruising is lightening up.” He’s tracing around my ankle with his finger. “But the swelling is still there.”

“It’s feeling much better.”

He looks at me with those piercing eyes. “We should get someone in to massage it for you everyday. Get the blood flowing in the right direction.”

My heart is racing at his touch. I wonder if I should tell him my blood is already flowing. “I don’t know how I’d feel about that.”

“Why?”

“A stranger coming to touch me,” I shake my head. “No thanks.” Just the thought gives me anxiety.

He’s amused by my neurosis. “Haven’t you ever gotten a massage?”

“Only the kind where money doesn’t exchange hands.” Only from lovers.

He puts his hands around my ankle. I notice just how big they are when they’re touching me. “May I?”

I nod in agreement. 

He starts with a gentle pressure on the lower part of my foot. I worry it might bring back some of the throbbing pain, but it doesn’t. It just feels nice. 

And, God, I hate myself for it...but it’s immediately turned me on. I don’t know if there are pressure points he’s hitting, or the sensation is heightened by my tender ankle, or if it’s just because a dangerous and attractive man has his hands on me, but my traitorous body just wants more.

I lay back propped up by some throw pillows against the arm of the sofa. I watch him a moment as he rubs my foot. He’s concentrating so hard on every bit of my foot’s anatomy. He rubs each toe, every peak, every valley. When he gets to the arch of my foot, a moan escapes my lips. 

My eyes flash open and I cover my mouth. He’s staring at me with a gentle smile and a raised eyebrow. “Don’t worry, Alexis. That little sound didn’t give anything away I couldn’t already see.”

He reaches a finger up to my neck, and I freeze as he drags it over my skin to my breastbone, leaving a scorched mark of sensation in its wake. “You’re all worked up and flush here.”

Studious and thoughtful indeed. I look down and I know he must see my nipples straining under my white blouse. I need to pull back...this is too much too soon…

But his hands are back on my foot, and I really have no fight. The craziest part is, I don’t even have to pretend he’s Tomas. My sick brain wants it to be Lorenzo. 

“Did you notice your shelves?” he asks.

I look up and see it full of books and catch my breath.

“There are some classics there, and some new ones on the best-seller list. You’ll let me know if there’s a specific book I can bring you?”

I let my eyes smile at him and give him a nod. “Thank you.”

He goes back to rubbing my foot. “The Times will be delivered with your breakfast every morning, as well.”

I close my eyes and try to sort out the confusion in my head. I know who this man is...I know he’s evil. But he’s making me feel GOOD right now. Really GOOD.

“I get it,” he says.

I open my eyes, and he’s watching me.

“Get what?”

“What’s going on in your head. The conflict. I have it, too.”

He would understand better than anyone.

He squeezes the soft skin behind my ankle, and I swear I feel a contraction in my sex. I suck in a breath and hold back another moan.

There’s a smirk on his mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

I give up trying to control my reactions, and just close my eyes and feel his hands. He seems to know what’s going on with me whether or not I try to fight it, so why waste the energy?

When he’s done with my foot, he wraps it back up. He stands carefully, and replaces my feet on the couch where he was just sitting, then he moves to sit on the coffee table in front of me. 

“I have a meeting to get to. Is there anything else I can arrange for you?”

I bite my lip, fearful of asking for too much too soon, but knowing I need to build on his affection for me, and he does seem to like giving me things. 

His finger strokes down my arm in the gentlest coaxing way. “Tell me.”

“Can I take you up on that offer for some new clothes.” I blush. I’m really not used to asking anyone for such things. It’s embarrassing that I can’t do it for myself. It feels childlike and powerless. But I remind myself that ASKING is a form of power when it comes to Lorenzo. I AM doing something when I ask. He’s responding just the way I need him to.

“Anything in particular?” 

I shrug and blush some more. I need EVERYTHING, down to underwear.

His finger traces the blush on my cheek. “I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

I grab the hand touching my cheek and I look softly in his eyes. “I’m not sure this is what ‘atonement’ is supposed to look like.”

He stares at me with unmistakable affection, and I’m stunned at how the force of it hits me. “Since you’re atoning for sins that were laid against me, I get to decide what that atonement should look like.”

“You buying me gifts?”

He smiles. “It pleases me to get you things. Allowing me my pleasure is your atonement at the moment.”

The qualifier at the end of his statement isn’t lost on me. But not wanting to ruin this chance to make headway, I smile back, “As far as imprisonments go, I guess it could be worse. Your pleasure seems to benefit me, too.”

He sighs heavily and chuckles to himself. I wonder what he’s thinking.

He looks at his watch and stands to leave.

“Oh, Lorenzo?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you hand me the remote?”

He smiles. “Of course. I can’t have you missing your novelas.” He retrieves it for me. “Anything else?” 

I shake my head, embarrassed. “Not right now.”

He gives me one last look before he walks away.

This is going to be easier than I thought.

 

____________________________

 

The next day I go down to visit Tomas, but the big, grouch of a guard won’t open the door.

“Mr. Alcazar didn’t give me instructions for your visit today.”

“Then call him and get them.”

He looks at me like he’s angry. What the hell does he have to be angry at me about?

And I’m angry I didn’t get to see Tomas, and angry I made this trip up and down these awful stairs on my foot for no reason, at all. When I get back to my room, I grab the phone and call Lorenzo. It rings three times and goes to voicemail.

“Lorenzo...it’s Alexis. I was hoping to visit Tomas again today, but your guard wouldn’t let me. He wouldn’t call you, either. Could you let him know I’m allowed to see him again? Thank you...Bye.”

God, that felt awkward. 

I wait with a frustrating amount of impatience for several hours. I come to the conclusion that Lorenzo’s direct line is not his cell phone, and it’s not meant for emergencies...either that, or he doesn’t want me to see Tomas anymore.

I don’t hear from anyone until just before lunchtime when one of the housekeepers knocks on the door carrying armfuls of shopping bags. It takes her three trips to get everything into my room. 

The housekeeper is a very sweet young woman named Yolanda who doesn’t allow me to unpack my new things. Instead, she pulls everything out of the bags for my inspection before she puts them away in the walk-in closet. 

As she’s hanging up another summer dress, I roll my eyes at how overboard Lorenzo went. If giving me things gives him pleasure, then he should be feeling very pleased with himself about now.

When Yolanda gets to the final bag, I ask, “Did you pick all these out?”

She nods, smiling. It seems she never had so much fun at work before. “Do you like them?”

“Very much.”

I’m glad the young woman was practical, and got me all manner of clothes. Some would be good to laze around the room, but others might be useful in dealing with Lorenzo more...intimately.

Yolanda has particularly good taste in shoes, and I can’t wait until my foot heals and I get to try some of them on. 

She brings me the final bag blushing. She hands it to me to peruse before she puts it away.

“Oh.” It’s the underwear bag. And she...um...purchased just as much variety as everything else. “Thank you. I’ll look through it later.”

After I finish my lunch, I go to my closet to pick out something new to wear. I’m tired of wearing the same few outfits over and over. I find a dress that looks comfortable and pretty, and take off my clothes to put it on.

I stare at my plain old bra and panties in the mirror and realize how frumpy they’re looking. I peek in the underwear drawer and find a comfortable, nude set. 

I hesitate before I put it on because I’m distracted by a black set with the prettiest lace I’ve ever seen. I cast the nude underwear aside and don the black. 

I look good...I look really good.

I cast the dress aside, as well, and I look for a robe I remember Yolanda showing me. A black, silk robe that would go with it nicely. I have a feeling Lorenzo will really like the black.

I don’t think he’ll have sex with me quite yet...though I wish I could speed things along. But I can tease him...have him ‘accidentally’ walk in on me not fully changed...catch him off guard.

I feel a certain degree of silly waiting around for a man in my underwear. I don’t even know if he’ll stop by, but I just have a feeling he’ll want to see my reaction to his gift.

Waiting is difficult, though. I’m so impatient, I can hardly stand it. I just want him here to see me, so I can pretend to be scandalized at him finding me in the sexiest underwear he bought me.

I mean, what kind of guy buys a girl a bunch of underwear, then doesn’t come see her in it?!

Unless he’s pouting? I did call and complain to him about not seeing Tomas. Maybe he’s mad I didn’t call to thank him for my stuff. Maybe he thinks I’m petulant and ungrateful. I kind of feel that way now that I think about it...until I remember I’m his prisoner.

I pick up the phone and call him again. It hits voicemail AGAIN. 

“Hey Lorenzo. It’s me again...Alexis. I just wanted to say thank you for clothes. It’s way too much, and I know you could really be an ass about this whole imprisonment thing, but you’re actually being pretty generous. So...thank you...” I leave an awkward pause before I hang up.

I give up on Lorenzo for the moment and turn on my damn novela. I need to find out if the baby is going to survive the fall down the stairs. It’s not looking good.

 

_____________________

 

I gave up waiting around in my underwear after two weeks of no sign of Lorenzo. I gave up waiting for him, at all, after another two weeks more of his absence. 

So now when I get out of the shower, I no longer put on any of my sexy new underwear. I walk to my closet to find something ridiculously comfortable to lay around in BY MYSELF. 

I can’t believe he’s ignored me for over a month. No acknowledgement. No nothing.

On my way to the closet, I see movement out of my window. Across the courtyard, there’s activity in the room with the large balcony. A housekeeper is opening the doors to let fresh air in, and through the doors I see Lorenzo. 

“What do you know? He’s alive.” My voice lacks enthusiasm. It seems the room I’d mistaken for a large entertaining area is actually his bedroom.

He’s shirtless, and wearing a pair of slacks. He’s on the phone, alternating between listening and pushing buttons, so I think he might be checking voicemail. 

His eyes look across to my room. I realize I’m standing in front of my window in a towel. He stares at me a moment, and I feel a rush of heat fill my cheeks. I’m annoyed I’m having this reaction to him after a month of him ignoring me. 

And to reinforce my irritation with him, he looks back down at his phone and pushes another button and moves on as though completely unaffected.

I go to my closet to get dressed. I’m glad I’ve given up on the idea of seducing him. The man is a goddamn roller coaster of emotion, and I haven’t even had a ride!

I’m going to make him suffer. I grab the black set from my underwear drawer and put it on. It’s much easier to do now that my ankle is healed. I strut out into my room and look toward the open balcony. 

Except his doors are closed and there’s no sign of that infuriating man!

I feel like I want to cry with anger and resentment and anxiety and rejection and unmet expectati…

There’s a knock on my door that stops me in my tracks. I look at the clock, and see it’s not yet dinnertime.

Is it him?

Should I get my robe?

The door opens without a second knock, and Lorenzo walks in the room. I’m stunned, still in my lingerie, and can’t seem to close my mouth. His hair is wet, like he just got out of the shower, and he’s thrown on a shirt. It’s not buttoned all the way, showing a hint of scattered chest hair, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. 

His face looks recently shaved, giving me a compulsion to touch the scruff growing back in. Has he always been this sexy?

His eyes are looking me up and down with unmistakable heat, which doesn’t help me keep my cool. In this moment I know one thing about this man, in rage his blood runs cold, but in passion it’s fire.

I had planned a month ago for Lorenzo to ‘accidentally’ find me in my underwear. Now that he’s actually accidentally found me near naked, I don’t know what to do with myself.

“Hello,” he says. His voice drips with sex.

That irritates the shit out of me. A month of ignoring me, and all I get is a ‘hello?’ and my body reacts like a needy fool.

I put a hand on my hip and raise an eyebrow at him, displaying more confidence than I actually have to try to assert some dominance in a situation in which I have no power. Usually, when I give this look to a man, they at least pretend to feel some degree of shame, but Lorenzo just lifts the corner of his mouth at my display of irritation.

“I just got your messages,” he says. “I was out of town these last few weeks.”

He tells me this now? I figure I’ve given him enough of a show and turn on my heel to go hunt down my robe. I put it on and walk to the couch without any further acknowledgement. 

I notice him still smirking as he comes to sit next to me. For some reason, he’s moving almost in slow motion. Maybe he’s wary of my wrath. He looks at me and says, “You’re mad.”

I just stare.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” 

“For not checking my phone sooner. It’s a private line for you and household staff, so there’s rarely anything urgent to attend to on that line. I’ve had a lot on my plate, and it slipped my mind.”

I bite the side of my cheek to stop myself from saying something nasty.

“Your...um...new clothes look nice.” He’s smirking again and peering at my robe as though he can still see the underwear beneath.

“Yes, Yolanda was very thoughtful when she picked them out for me.” I give Yolanda the credit in hopes of irritating him, but it doesn’t seem to have the effect I want.

“Yolanda did a fine job. She should probably get a raise.”

His agreeableness to my pouting is pissing me off. I backhand him in the chest and say, “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving for a month?!”

“Ow! Shit! Fuck!” Lorenzo is bent over in terrible pain. I’m certain I didn’t hit him that hard.

“Lorenzo?”

He’s taking slow, deep breaths as he eases back into a sitting position. I can tell he’s really hurt. I crawl up on my knees and put a gentle hand on his chest. “Are you ok?”

He looks at me cautiously and says, “That depends...what answer keeps you from beating me up again?”

“What happened, Lo?”

He raises an eyebrow at my shortening his name. He smiles a little before he talks. “I got word that one of my production plants abroad was under attack...long story short, a building fell down on me and I broke a few ribs.”

“You broke a few ribs?!” Now I feel awful for hitting him.

“I’m mostly healed, but it gets a little tender when I’m assaulted unaware.”

“This is why you were ‘a little busy?’ You had a building falling down on you and you were recovering from broken bones?”

He nods.

I feel ashamed of myself. “I thought you were ignoring me.”

He shook his head and smiled sweetly.

“Can I see?” I ask.

“It’s nothing, really,” he protests. “I’m mostly healed.”

But he doesn’t stop me from unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it open.

This is my first look at his chest up close. He’s fit, and strong, and, God help me, sexy as hell. The hair on his chest is perfect, not too much, but so masculine. I think I let out a sigh as I take him in.

I push away thoughts of Julian because they’ll only make me feel guilty and ashamed of what I’m planning. Instead, I focus on Lorenzo and his beautiful body. I gently run my fingers over his skin to inspect his ribs.

“I can’t see any damage. You look...perfect.”

He smiles at me. “I told you. I’m healing just fine.”

My hands are still on his chest. “Except when I hit you.”

He chuckles, “Except that.”

“Can I get you ice?”

He shakes his head. “I’m fine, really. Just don’t hit me again for another week or so.”

“Can I get you a drink? Food?”

He lifts his hand to my cheek, “Are you taking care of me now, Alexis?”

“Just returning the favor.” I wiggle my healed ankle.

“That looks like it’s feeling better.” His hand is still stroking my cheek. 

I nod. “It is.”

I stand up to grab the phone, and decide to bring it to him so he can ask for whatever he likes. I’m pleased he hasn’t buttoned his shirt up yet when he’s done ordering.

I sit turned into him, getting more comfortable with our growing familiarity, and I place my hand back on his ribs and gently caress his skin, letting my fingers run through his hair. He sits spread on the couch in a way I’ve only seen him do once before, and then he was drunk. He’s good and relaxed around me now, and I can tell he likes my touch.

In fact, he’s putty in my hands.

“Who did this to you?” I ask. I realize that some of the concern I’m feeling might even be real. I don’t like that at all. 

He shakes his head. “I’m not certain...but I have an idea. I just need confirmation before I make any moves to retaliate.”

I purse my lips. I want to tell him to be careful, but I don’t know whether or not I’d mean it. I just keep touching his skin, following the trail of hair down his stomach. 

One of his hands comes around me and rests on my back. “What’s that look on your face?”

I decide to answer honestly, “I’m debating whether or not I should tell you to be careful.”

He grins without humor. No glittering in his crystal blues this time. “If I die, you have a chance of going free. I can’t blame you for wishing it so.”

I shake my head. “I think what stops me from wishing you well, is that I might actually mean it.”

“And wouldn’t that be a tragedy?”

“At the very least, a betrayal of my own self-respect.”

The hand on my back moves around my silk-covered waist. He grabs tight, and I know it’s pulling open my robe, exposing my lacy bra. 

He says, “Now I’d be lying if I said that kind of atonement doesn’t appeal to me. You having affection for me, and hating yourself for it.”

My hands move up his chest to cup his face. I notice dark circles around his eyes. He hasn’t been sleeping well. “Is that how you feel about me, too?” I ask.

“Just so. And misery loves company.”

“When you suffer, you want me to suffer? When you’re pleased, you want to please me? When you hate yourself, you make me do the same?”

He nods.

I trace his lips with my thumb. “You really take this eye for an eye and soul for a soul thing too far, don’t you?”

His only response is to caress my fingers with his lips…

We’re interrupted by a knock at the door. His food is here. I pull away and try to stand up, but his hand tightens around my waist. A moment later, the housekeeper opens the door on her own, and she brings the food in and sets the large tray on the coffee table in front of us.

Embarrassed by the sight we’re giving the woman, I sit back and pull my robe tighter. Lorenzo lets me go, though I’m not sure if it’s for the sake of the housekeeper or for me. 

“Gracias, Lupita,” he rumbles. 

“De nada señor.”

Lupita quietly leaves, and Lorenzo moves forward to eat his meal. I see there are two plates on the tray, and I’m sure he wants me to eat with him. He doesn’t push me though, and maybe it’s to give us some space after that moment of intimacy.

He pours two glasses of whiskey and sets to work on his. I prefer to sit and watch him a moment.

He can’t help his self-control in mothering me for long, because he scoots my plate toward me in invitation before he goes back to eating his food.

“What’s this?” I ask, looking at a deep fried disc of corn masa. I can see cheese and shredded beef coming out, and some kind of pickled cabbage on top.

He chuckles, “Sorry, I had a craving. They’re not very healthy, but pupusas are delicious. Indulge with me? It’s been a long month away.”

I join him more to make him happy than to satisfy my own hunger. I pick up my knife and fork and cut into the guilty pleasure. “These are amazing,” I have to admit.

“They’re good, aren’t they? They’re from El Salvador. One of the kitchen staff is from there.”

“You have wonderful staff in the kitchens. The housekeepers, too.”

“Everyone’s been treating you well in my absence?”

“For the most part. Did you threaten them with imprisonment if they treat me poorly?” I joke.

But he narrows his eyes, “What do you mean, ‘for the most part?’”

“Oh nothing.”

“Alexis.” His voice is demanding

“It’s just that guard on Tomas. He unpleasant.”

Lorenzo looks back down to his food and grumbles, “He’s guarding someone who doesn’t deserve pleasantness.”

“You really hate Tomas, don’t you?”

“He tried to slice my throat, Alexis. Just like Helena did to your mother. I thought I was alone and safe in my bedroom, and if it wasn’t for his clumsy ineptitude, I’d be dead right now. I never met the man before, and he sneaks in my house, pretends to be me, and nearly kills me. I’m struggling to understand your compassion for him. He’s as much a cold-blooded killer as I’ve ever been.”

“Of course I have compassion for him. I have it for you, don’t I?”

He seems shocked by my logic, and can’t seem to find the words to respond.

I cut another bit of pupusa and smirk at him as I eat it.

He takes a drink before he finds his voice. “So, I shouldn’t feel special or unique, like I’m the only murderer you have compassion for?”

“You’re the one who did all the research on my past relationships. You tell me.”

A slow grin spreads over his face. “Maybe I should count myself lucky you have a type?”

“What makes you think you’re my type, Mr. Alcazar?”

He shoots back his drink and says with a wink, “Because I am THE archetype, sweetheart.”

I snorkle with laughter and hit him in the arm. 

He laughs with me putting his arms up in defense of his core, and says, “Careful, Alexis, the ribs, remember?”

“Oops.” I cover my mouth and snort again. “I guess if ever there was a time you were vulnerable to me, this is it.”

He grabs the whiskey bottle and pours himself another drink, shaking his head. “Perhaps, Natasha, but it’s got nothing to do with my broken ribs.”

His words have me reaching for my drink, too. He holds up his glass and I tap mine against it. I do relish the power in making him vulnerable, as terrifying as it is.

I sit back in the corner of the couch and watch Lorenzo as I nurse my drink contemplating the vulnerability of the big man before me. He takes his time to eat all the food on his plate, and he drinks a few more glasses of whiskey. 

He’s not lying when he says he’s vulnerable to me. Here he sits, unguarded and injured with a woman he’s wronged. I wonder that he didn’t learn from Skye what a mistake that was. Then again, Skye was too weak to protect herself; she used Jason and Sonny to do it for her. Maybe he’s forgotten that I’ve never had to rely on anyone else to take care of those who’ve wronged me. 

When Lorenzo finishes his meal and another drink, he lays his head back on the couch and closes his eyes. There he sits fully exposed...his broken ribs...his soft, unprotected neck out on display. 

My eyes look to the coffee table to where my knife lay discarded. Then I look to his throat. I sip my drink as images flash in my mind...Helena and my mother, me and Luis, Julian and me, Lorenzo and Baz, Lorenzo and Márquez. 

I could end this imprisonment right now if I really wanted to. I may not get out alive, but it would be over.

And I also wouldn’t have my baby girl.

I need him.

I reach to the coffee table and set my drink down. His eyes peek open watching me. Perhaps he’s more wary of me than I realize. I grab his arm and pull, knowing I won’t be able to move his big body without his help. I lay back on the arm of the couch, propped by the pillows, and wait for him to follow.

He considers me a moment, laying before him, my robe slightly open, showing some of the lingerie. He knows he’s vulnerable to me, yet he can’t seem to help himself. He follows me down, turning his body so his ribs are facing up, and lays the back of his head between my breasts. 

My arms and legs curl around him, pleased with the comfort of his weight. His shirt is still open and I run my hands gently over his chest, savoring the sensations of his unique masculinity. My hands trace up to his scruffy face and run over his nascent beard. I know how much he’s loving my touch by the long, easy sigh he expels. 

I stroke his face and his hair until I’m certain he’s asleep. As he lets off a gentle snore, my hands drop softly to his throat. His blood is pumping slow and easy through his jugular to his heart, and I sit there awhile as it thrums its steady rhythm. 

He better help me get Scout back soon...or I’ll have to find a way through him to do it myself.

I kiss his head gently as I stroke his face and his throat in reassurance that I’m helping my sweet girl by playing this game. I stroke until my eyes are heavy and my hands are weak, and I drift off to sleep just as vulnerable as Lorenzo.


	9. The Best Laid Plans

The Best Laid Plans

_______________

 

I’m so warm and comfortable. Cozy. Groggy. I’m finally used to having nowhere to go in the morning, and I’m getting good at sleeping in as late as my body wants. And these sheets are the softest in the world. This pillow cradles my neck in just the right place.

I roll over and wrap my arm around Lorenzo’s waist, letting my hand skim over his stomach, softer in its resting state. My leg curls around his, bringing him close to my sex. I bury my face in his side and take in his scent. My mouth opens to taste him. I lick his erotic flavor and suck up his skin.

A low, masculine growl has me opening my eyes and coming into full consciousness. I look up and see myself wrapped around Lorenzo’s mostly naked body. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of black briefs and a pair of reading glasses on his nose. He’s perched up on a few pillows reading what looks like The New York Times. If I was more awake, it would’ve been an amusing counterpoint to the sound he’s making.

My mouth lets go of his skin and I flush with heat when I realize what I’m doing. It’s embarrassing how easy it was to damn near make love to this man without being fully conscious.

“Oh, please don’t stop on my account, Ms. Davis.” He’s smirking down at me in his sexy way. 

I hide my face back in his side before I realize that’s what started this to begin with. I move away from him and hide behind my pillow.

“Good morning, Alexis.”

I moan painfully embarrassed into the pillow. It takes me another moment to realize we fell asleep on the couch, me in a robe, and he in his clothes, but now, we’re in my bed wearing nothing but our underwear.

“What happened?” I ask, peeking out at him

He chuckles, “Well, I was reading your morning paper and you started doing the nicest thing with your mouth. And then there was your hips…”

I shoot him a look that would kill a lesser man. But being no lesser man, he tosses the paper and his glasses aside and smiles indulgently.

He scoots down in bed so he’s lying parallel with me. “If that’s ever something you want to try again…”

“Why are we in bed together dressed like this?”

He grins broadly. “Your idea, don’t you remember?”

I shake my head. How could I sleep so hard?

His eyebrows raise, “Oh, was that another unconscious pass at me? I think I like you in your REM cycle, Ms. Davis.”

I can’t help but laugh. I never expected him to have such good humor.

He reaches between us and grabs my hand. “Don’t worry, your morning attentions to my broken ribs were the most...active part of your unconsciousness. When I tried to leave last night, you asked me to stay. That’s all.”

“And our clothes?”

He smiles, “You weren’t wearing much to begin with, and you’re lucky I decided to keep my underwear on. I don’t usually sleep so heavily clothed.”

I bite my lip. “So, we didn’t…?”

He shakes his head. “I’d hope you’d be conscious enough to remember if we fucked, Ms. Davis, broken ribs, or not.”

He’s got me good and worked up now, “Did you...um...keep your hands to yourself last night?”

That made his eyes twinkle. “Only as much as you did.”

His playful mood is pleasant, even if I’m embarrassed. I know I wouldn’t be so coy if I had woken up first and prepared for this as a seduction. Now that my wits are coming about me, I do what I can to capitalize on the moment.

“Well, since you’ve seen all I have to offer…” I say. I sit up and let the sheet drop along with my embarrassment. 

He sits up with me. “Oh, Alexis, I haven’t seen all you have to offer. Not yet.”

He certainly hasn’t.

“Hungry?” he asks. It takes me a moment to realize he’s not just speaking for the sake of innuendo. “Oh, um, no. Just coffee, please.”

I see he’s had food brought in this morning already. That must’ve been how he got the paper and his glasses. He stands to fetch me a cup of coffee. 

He really is a specimen of a man, and the years have only been kind. His recent rubble-broken body does move just a little slower than normal, however, and he stops after a few steps to reach up and stretch his already long, torso.

For some reason, sharing a bed with a man makes me have fewer sadistic impulses toward him, and I don’t enjoy his pain as much as I would have yesterday.

He brings me the cup with a delicious smile - a dazzling, full mouth, straight, white teeth, out of a 1950’s Technicolor movie smile. Beautiful. He’s absolutely beautiful. My heart is racing a million miles an hour, and I can’t seem to breathe. Finally, my breath catches and I keep trying to get more and more air, because I’m light-headed and it never feels like enough. When he holds out the mug to me, I can’t take it. I’m paralyzed. 

How have I never seen that smile before?

Apparently, my open-mouthed staring amuses him further, and now his eyes smile along with this mouth. “Your coffee?”

I shake my head, trying to clear out the full-blown swoon I just experienced. I grab the cup when I know I’m steady enough not to drop scalding coffee on my lap.

Lorenzo’s hand runs through my hair and down my back as I take my first sip. “I need to get going.”

“You’re not eating breakfast?”

“I already ate. I was just waiting for you to wake so you wouldn’t think I left you alone.”

“Oh…”

He starts putting on his clothes, and I find the act pretty damn sexy, though I’m disappointed I missed out on the removal. 

I set my coffee aside, curl my legs up, and wrap my arms around them. The thought of him leaving has me oddly bereft. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me...an accidental night in bed with this man, and I’m nearly forgetting all the reasons I’m here. I must be spending too much time alone. 

These feelings are useful in seducing a man, right? Like Tomas said, he needs to believe me, so I might as well embrace this sick part of me who wants my captor to stay in bed with me.

When he’s clothed in yesterday’s slacks and shirt, he comes back and sits next to me on the edge of the bed. He touches my lips and makes the most adorable pout with his lips...it takes me a moment to realize he’s mirroring my expression. The look of a sad puppy.

“Will it be another month before I see you?” I ask, like some part-time whore.

He shakes his head. 

“A week? Two months?” I push.

His eyes look me up and down. I wonder what he must see? A neurotic bundle of nerves and bare limbs in black lace, probably.

“Have dinner with me tonight?” he says.

I can’t help my blush...I’m not so sure I’m very good at this seduction thing. “Like a date?”

He grazes the back of his hand down my leg. I shiver as goosebumps flush through me head to toe. The look on his face as he touches my skin tells me he’s so obviously thinking about sex, I reconsider my doubts of my ability to seduce him.

“Like a date,” he confirms.

“As in, you’re going to take me somewhere outside this room?”

He sets his hand on my thigh, rubbing his thumb gently on my sensitive skin. I think he’s testing my response. I’m grateful my body wants him so badly. I can’t fake how he’s making me feel.

“Would you like that?”

It takes me a moment, but find my words, “I would.”

“Inside or outside?”

“Outside. By the pool.”

“Done.” He smiles and says in consideration, “You know, this will be the first date I’ve had in...I don’t know how long. Years.”

I haven’t been on a date since Finn, “It’s been a long time for me, too.”

“Really?”

I nod, “Really.” 

His face darkens and his hand squeezes my thigh. “You looked pretty cozy with your ex-husband when you arrived.”

So, he was watching us the whole time. I shrug. “We didn’t date. You know what he did to me on those docks. What we had was...complicated. I’m sure you haven’t been celebate this whole time.”

“No, I guess I haven’t.”

I can’t help my sneer. 

“Jealous, Ms. Davis?”

“Of course not.” My answer is too sharp, and even I don’t believe it.

He smiles slow and cocky, and I do my best not to get irritated with him. His hand leaves my leg and traces up my body to cup the back of my neck. “Any special requests?”

“Don’t be an ass?”

“No guarantees.” He leans forward and puts a gentle kiss at the corner of my mouth. I try to hold exceptionally still, but my body leans into his lips. It’s everything I can do not to turn to into his mouth and kiss him back. My hands forget themselves and reach out to grab his shirt, trying to keep him close.

He pulls back with a shuddering breath, licking his lips like he’s only just begun. There is no glittering in his pretty, blue eyes anymore, but there’s an energy in them, like just before he killed Márquez. 

I feel no small bit of fear at the association, but it doesn’t make me want to kiss him any less. I know I’m a sick woman, but this sickness in me might get my girl back, so I allow myself to feel all the want in the world for this man.

“I’ll come by at seven,” he says. 

He lets go of me and tries to stand up, but I’m still grabbing his shirt. He smirks and awaits what I’m going to do next. I contemplate kissing him, throwing him on the bed and riding him, fucking him until he can’t see straight…

But I don’t. I just whisper in his ear as I straighten his shirt, “Take something for those ribs. I’d hate for you to be in pain tonight.”

Lorenzo smiled, “They’re already feeling better.” He stands up. “See you later, Alexis.”

And he walks out the door.

 

___________________________

 

Lorenzo is late.

I’m supposed to be the one who’s late. It’s eight o’clock, and my hair isn’t quite as perfect as an hour ago, and I’ve had to reapply my lipstick three times.

Waiting is never a good thing for me. There’s too much time for my thoughts to wander, and they seem to know how to catastrophize even the most benign situation, and this situation is anything but benign.

Instead of thinking of all the worst case scenarios possible, I’ve been trying to run through my plan for the evening and visualize it going well. Apparently, that just means I’m fantasizing about sex all day. I do my best not to feel guilty and disgusted for fucking the man who might have taken my baby girl, because it won’t convince him how much I want him, and I might end up sticking him with a knife instead. 

But I do want him. At least my body does. My body is really enjoying these fantasies. I’ve changed my panties today as many times as I’ve reapplied my lipstick.

I look over the balcony and see our dinner table set up down on the deck by the pool. The lights are starting to come on, and they’re glittering in the waterfalls. The sun will be setting soon, and I’m sure it will be a beautiful sight. 

Lorenzo Alcazar’s Old World tastes in this villa are impeccable. They remind me very much of growing up in Europe, though he doesn’t care so much for dark colors in his home as my family once did.

But there is that other kind of darkness is in this place that was always present at Cassadine Island. My eyes shift the opposite end of the courtyard where Lorenzo stuck Márquez with his blade. An involuntary flash of panic sets in my belly, and I look away.

I see movement in the room across the courtyard from me. The room I’ve concluded is Lorenzo’s. 

I’m done waiting.

I look in the mirror one last time. I’m wearing a white dress made from the region that falls off my shoulders, pulls in tight at the waist, flares out at my hips, and stops just before my knees. I picked it out with him in mind. My shoes are cobalt blue, strappy heels, and I love them. 

I steel myself with a deep breath and walk out the door. I know the general direction where I’m heading; I need to make a U around the courtyard. There’s no one in the halls to stop me, so I move quickly before I’m found. 

His room is easy to find. There is a set of large, double doors that sit alone on a long wall. I listen a moment before enter. I can hear his muffled voice.

I don’t knock, but rather open the door as quietly as I can. It’s decorated much like my room, except the personal touches come more in the way of art, books, and general signs of use - a jacket thrown over the back of a chair, an almost empty glass of whiskey sitting on his desk, and a tidy office space. 

Lorenzo is standing half-dressed with just his pants on staring at the window as he talks on the phone. I wonder if he’s looking at my room. His Spanish is deep, raspy, and authoritative, and along with that impeccable posture, it reminds me of the first day I arrived. A conditioned fear response jolts through my heart...but as is so disgustingly frequent with me, a different kind of arousal follows.

My heels are muted on the carpeted floor as I come up behind him. He seems to be wrapping up his conversation, “Los quiero vivos si es posible.”

He hangs up the phone and tosses it aside.

“Fuck,” he mumbles to himself. He must’ve got some disappointing news.

I’m right behind him now, and I reach out to touch him. In an instant, he’s turned and grabbed my arm. My feet have been kicked out from under me and I yelp as I’m falling. His long arms are wrapped around me, breaking my fall. His heavy weight lands on top of me, pinning my arms over my head.

My mouth is gasping for air, and I don’t know if it’s from fear or from his body crushing my lungs. Then again, maybe it’s his face, inches from mine, staring at me with those vibrant, maniacal eyes. 

“Do you have any clue what I did to the last person to sneak into my room without invitation?”

That low, rumbling tone vibrates through my body, causing me to moan and relax my hips, spreading my legs. I have absolutely no control over my body right now, and I don’t even want any. 

He feels my submission, and his rolls his hips.

“Oh God,” I say. His cock is big, thick, and heavy, and he rubbing it over my clit.

“Why are you here?”

“You were making me wait. No one ever makes me wait.”

He smirks, “I was dealing with a life and death situation.”

“You think that’s a good enough reason?” I wrap my legs around his ass and press him against me.

He smirks and pushes the head of his cock to my sex; it’s covered by layers of clothes, but I can still feel it. I want it in me. 

“Are you asking me to let people die for this?” He thrusts hard, and my body is going crazy for his cock.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

His lips drop to graze over mine. “I bet it’s worth every drop of blood...and more.”

I can’t take his teasing anymore; I take his mouth with mine. He groans loud and rough as he steals the kiss from me, crushing me into the floor. I pull against his grip on my hands, wanting to feel his bare chest and back. He doubles down his weight, giving me no chance of moving.

“Don’t fight me, Alexis,” he growls. “Don’t ever fight me. I’m in control, you understand?”

I nod. I’ll let him think that if he needs.

“Tell me what you want,” he says. “Ask me nicely and I’ll give you anything you need.”

“I want to touch you,” I plead.

He nods acquiescing before he kisses me deep, tongue licking far into my mouth. 

He releases my hands, but doesn’t give up his control. Instead, he grabs fistfuls hair to keep me in place. My hands drop, touching his back. His muscles shock me, so defined, so firm and heavy, rolling like waves every time he moves his hips.

His hands, apparently envious of my own exploration, drop down to squeeze my breasts and pinch my nipples. 

“Ahh!” I buck my hips up against him, trying like hell to satisfy this need building in me all day...no, building in me for weeks.

He lifts my dress and grabs handfuls of the thicker flesh of my ass. He’s driving into my hips as he squeezes my cheeks from the other side, and I’m going to lose it.

“Lo!” I come hard and loud, my body shaking and seizing violently. He still controls my orgasm, grinding against me, driving it on and on.

“More!” I say, clawing at his back. “I want more, please!”

He moans into my neck, “Fuck, I love it when you beg me.” He sits up over me yanking off the dress and panties I took so long to pick out. “I’ve hated myself for wanting you. The fucking guilt. The torment. But when you’re begging me to fuck you, I know you’re just as fucked up as I am. Now, come here.”

He pulls me up with him to stand. I yank at his belt, and button, and zipper, then push his pants down. He steps out of his pants, and our bodies collide, naked and needy. 

His hands are back to gripping my hair, pulling my head back so he can bend down and kiss me again. My hands grab his firm, rounded ass squeezing and pulling him into me. 

Lorenzo guides me to his bed and falls on top of me. He’s back between my legs, and this time when he lines up his cock, there’s nothing to stop him. 

“Please,” I whimper.

He holds my head in his hands and pulls back his hips before slamming back into me. He nails me, fucks me senseless. He’s not soft or gentle; he’s rough and aggressive, but fuck, in the best way.

My body lays there as he hammers into me. I can’t move, I feel too much. I’ve never been a passive participant in sex. I’ve never ‘just laid there,’ but I can’t fucking move. My muscles don’t seem to work right, they’re shaking and quivering and terrified of what they know is coming.

My pussy is forced opened so wide by his thick cock, I can’t stand it. It’s squeezing him all on it’s own with every thrust. I can feel his head rubbing in all the right places, back and forth, hard and fast. I’ve never been fucked so raw in my life. I’ve never felt so desperately animalistic.

Most men I let fuck me have been, at the very least, on their way to falling for me, or whatever their version of falling for me was. I’ve never been just a fuck, a lay, an itch to scratch that had been building for so long. I’ve never had this, and I feel like I’ve wasted so much of my life without it. 

If I would’ve known what fucking the face of my sister’s killer would’ve been twelve years ago, any other kind of sex would’ve been ruined for me the rest of my life.

My orgasm hurts, it’s so strong. My body is quaking and screaming. I can feel my cum, the fluid fights its way out of my pussy, soaking the sheets. It goes on and on...it just doesn’t end. It can’t stop it the way he keeps fucking me.

Lorenzo Alcazar fucks like he does everything else; he’s brutal, and precise, and relentless, and magnificent.

He comes with a deep, roaring yell, still thrusting as his cum fills me, still thrusting as his body weighs heavier on me, and still thrusting as I wrap myself around him to feel every bit of his pleasure.

His face is buried in my neck, and his hips still move after he’s empty. But now, when he pushes in, it’s slow and lethargic, magnified after feeling the full force of his power only moments before. His cock is only mildly softened, and it’s coated with our cum mixing together. 

Finally, he stops. He’s laying flat on top of me buried in my neck. I don’t know how he can breathe like that. I don’t think I’m capable of breathing anymore.

He lets off a low, pained moan. “Oh my God, my ribs hurt like hell.”

Part of me wants to laugh, but I can’t. I feel pressure building in my throat, like a kinked hose filling with water. His weight doesn’t help the pressure, but I’m afraid if he gets off me, I might rupture.

He chuckles at his discomfort, and I feel him shift. He rolls off me and onto his back. “Come here, baby, I can’t move, or I might puncture a lung.”

I want to move, but I can’t. If I move, I know I’m going to lose it. I can’t lose it in front of him. He has to know I like it. And I did! I did like it. I loved it. But I’m still going to lose it, and I can’t figure out why.

My lungs shudder and I suck in a breath. A sob follows and tears start streaming down my face.

“Alexis?” 

His pain immediately forgotten, he’s rolled over me again, this time supporting his own weight on his arms. His rumpled brow tells me he’s worried. “Are you ok? Did I hurt you?”

After another sob, I can finally move. I cup his pained face in my hands and shake my head unsuccessfully blinking away my tears. “No, God no, you didn’t hurt me. It was good. It was so damn good.”

“Then why…?” His hand strokes my hair.

“I don’t know. It’s just so much. I’ve never had sex like that before…”

“Too rough?”

“No. Earth shattering. And with YOU of all people.”

He smiles softly, but the worry isn’t gone from his eyes. He bends down and kisses me gently, an extreme contrast from the sex we just had. I kiss him back, liking the comfort it gives me, though it does nothing to slow my tears. 

He likes my kisses. I can feel it in his mouth, I can hear it in the almost soundless moans of contentment. He likes me. His body likes me. I don’t know if this makes it easier or harder.

It’s always hard to know if you’re going to like each other the same way after sex. I’m certain we like each other more now. I’m ok with wanting his body. I don’t think I’m ok with wanting HIM.

But I can’t stop kissing him. I’m sobbing and I can’t stop kissing him.

He pulls away and strokes my hair. “I know, baby. I know. It’s not supposed to be like this with us. But it is, and it’s so fucked up.”

I nod. “You look like you’re doing better than I am.”

He shakes his head, “I think I’m just a few steps ahead of you, is all. Watching you suffer made me sick to my stomach, and I’ve spent all my time since figuring out why, and sorting out the mess in my head that comes from wanting you.”

But there’s one giant piece to this mess Lorenzo doesn’t see…

Julian. I love Julian. I’m in love with Julian. I’m sleeping with Lorenzo, wanting Lorenzo, fucking Lorenzo while Julian is probably out losing his mind over me, over Scout. 

I sob even more.

“Lorenzo,” I say weakly. I just want to say his name. 

“I know, baby. I know.”

He doesn’t know.

I kiss him to lose myself again. 

 

____________________________

 

Lorenzo brings me a glass of whiskey, and I take it down fast. He doesn’t laugh, thank God. He just goes and gets the bottle and comes back to the bed and pours me another.

He sits next to me in bed with this own glass, and drinks slow and relaxed. 

I miss the sound of ice clinking against a glass. It doesn’t sound the same without booze filling the cup.

He wraps an arm around me and pulls me in. “I’m sorry about our date. I’ll take you out tomorrow. You want to go into town?”

“No. I don’t want to be around people. I think I’ve forgotten how.”

“What do you want?”

“Just you.”

I hear him sigh in contented relief. It makes me laugh. 

“What?” he asks.

“I just can’t imagine ubercriminal Lorenzo Alcazar being pleased by the affections of the sexually repressed Alexis Davis.”

He chuckles as he runs his hand up and down my curves. “I really am a hateful ass. No wonder you’re so messed up over this.”

He really has no idea the full extent of why I’m so messed up over this. But I’ve decided I need to sleep with Lorenzo either way, so I may as well embrace every bit of this...the lust, the affection, the guilt, the shame. It’s all helps me get to Scout. I pull back the rest of my drink and down that one, too. 

I want more.

Lorenzo has the bottle on his side of the bed. Instead of asking for it, I turn and mount him, then reach over and fill my glass. He holds up his for a refill, too. I’m not the only one drinking fast.

I set the bottle down, and I take a sip of my drink. I don’t feel my buzz yet, but I’m sure it’s coming soon. My tolerance has gotten so low. In the meantime, I find my buzz a more efficient way; I bend down to kiss him. 

He’s a damn good kisser. The perfect combination of lick and suck and caress. The perfect fit for my mouth. 

He’s caressing my breasts, appreciating the womanly parts of me. “And to think you once called me matronly.”

“Let’s see…” He holds his glass up to my nipple. The freezing temperature and condensation shock me. I suck in a breath and it only makes my chest press further into the glass. Lorenzo licks my pointed nipple, and sucks it up into his mouth. I lean my head back and let him stimulate me all he wants, and part of that stimulation is coming from below where his hard cock is pressing against me.

He nips the bud before he looks up and says, “You’re the sexiest fucking woman I’ve ever met. You fucking do it for me, baby.”

I take a drink from my whiskey with one hand, and I guide his cock to my pussy with the other. I drink back the rest of the liquid and toss the glass aside as I slide on his cock. Lorenzo’s eyes flare up, and he discards his glass, too. He wraps his arms around me and finds my mouth as I start to ride.

 

_____________________

 

Lorenzo is asleep, but I’m finishing the bottle of whiskey. I wish it was vodka. 

He’s sleeping flat on his back, his arms above his head, and cock resting soft on his belly.

I really hope he doesn’t have Scout. I’m afraid to ask him now that his answer might hurt me in a different way.

I finish the bottle…

Now that I’m drunk, I’m willing to admit my feelings for the man. What is wrong with me that I can love Julian and care for Lorenzo at the same time? What is wrong with me that I can care for Lorenzo when he might’ve taken my baby?

But he says he didn’t. He hasn’t lied to me about anything else...even before he started having feelings for me. He never hid who he was from he. That’s been part of the problem! His most heinous crimes have been committed right in front of me, so why would he lie about Scout? If he wanted to torture me, wouldn’t he rub it in that he took her?

If he did take her, could he really spend a night like tonight with me? Is he that sick? And if he is, what does that make me?

I need more booze.

I need to get out of here.

I go to Lorenzo to see if he’s still really asleep. I bend over and kiss him on the lips, knowing if he was awake, he’d kiss me back.

He just gives a little contented hum and keeps breathing deep and steady.

I go into his closet and look for something I can throw on. There’s a floor-length, black, silk robe that will work just fine. It’s a little long and drags on the floor as I walk. 

I leave the room, completely unafraid of consequences. I truly believe there is nothing in this world I could do wrong in Lorenzo’s eyes that would make him hurt me now. Not even trying to escape. He might yell, he might lock me up, but he wouldn’t hurt me.

I’m having a hard time orienting myself coming from Lorenzo’s room instead of my own. A couple of times, I think I hear a guard coming, but when I stop to listen, no one is there. 

I finally find the main set of stairs and make my way down slowly. I don’t want another injured ankle...that might put a damper on the wildest sex of my life. As if the shame and guilt weren’t enough.

Once I’m downstairs, I my make my way down the hall to Tomas’s cell. I hope that asshole guard only works the day shift. 

Lucky for me, no one is at the cell door. I rush over and talk into the crack.

“Tomas? Tomas? Are you there? Are you awake?”

Scuffling sounds make their way closer. “Alexis? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see my friend.”

“Does Alcazar know you’re here?”

“Lorenzo’s asleep.”

“How do you know that?”

Because I fucked him senseless, I think in my head. Tomas seems to get the point in my silence.

“Oh...I see.”

“I’m sorry, it’s been so long since I visited you.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. How are you, Alexis? How are you holding up?”

I lean into the door to steady myself. “I’m fine, Tomas. Everything is going well. Just as we hoped.”

“Good. That’s really good. Especially since Alcazar took those losses. I’ve been worried it might make him angry with you, that he might take his anger out on you.”

“Losses?”

“You haven’t heard? The guards have all been talking about it.”

“Lorenzo doesn’t keep guards on me anymore, and I don’t speak Spanish.”

“Alexis, Nikolas and the parents of your missing girls...they’ve been attacking Lorenzo from all sides. They blew up one of his major arms production facilities, they’ve been hijacking shipments, and causing him some serious problems. Haven’t you noticed anything change in him?”

“He’s only treating me better, Tomas. He’s been good to me. He did get hurt recently, though.”

“That’s a fucking relief. I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“You really don’t have to worry about me, I…” 

I’m being swung around and thrown into the wall. My head bangs against the stone. Ouch, it fucking hurts!

“¡Puta! What the hell are you doing here?” The guard demands. “You’re just like your nephew. I warned El Jefe about you.”

“Keep your hands off me! Get Lorenzo down here and he’ll...”

“¡Cállate, puta!” In the dark I don’t see his backhand coming, but I feel it when it hits my face and knocks me back against the wall again. I fall to the floor in a heap.

I’m dizzy and confused, and I don’t know if it’s from the hit or the alcohol. All I know is my head feels like it’s split open back to front. I crawl forward on my hands and knees stumbling over Lorenzo’s too long robe.

The guard pushes me back and grabs my arm yanking me to the side, as if to drag me to my old cell. I have no knife or balconies to protect myself. I try to swing and hit the man, but my fists land uselessly on his limbs.

A large fist strikes the guard in the face and he lets me go, stumbling back into the wall.

“¡Que chingados es esto, Alberto!” It’s Lorenzo, thank God! He comes to me...

“Alexis?” he bends down and grabs me by the arms. “Are you ok?”

“Lorenzo...” I say, since I don’t know the answer. My head is throbbing so bad.

“Jefe…” says the guard from a few feet away.

Lorenzo goes still. It takes him a moment to stand. When he speaks, his voice is forced, measured, and cold as ice, “Did I not say Ms. Davis wasn’t to be touched?”

“But she was talking to the prisoner. She could’ve been breaking him out.”

“She’s wearing nothing but a robe!” Lorenzo barks out. He reels his anger back in. As he’s calming himself, I see a few more guards show up. “She has no keys and no weapons, yet you surmised her a threat?”

“Pero, señor…”

“No, buts. You knew this woman is under my protection!”

Lorenzo has that light in his eyes...that maniacal energy...the one he gets when he’s either going to fuck me or kill someone. 

“Dame un cuete,” Lorenzo tells a guard who hands him a gun. He points it at the guard who hurt me, the one he called Alberto.

“Señor, por favor,” Alberto pleads. I notice he doesn’t fight. It’s never a good idea to fight Lorenzo.

Lorenzo pulls back the hammer…

“Lorenzo!” I say. I can’t do it. I can’t watch this again. It doesn’t matter that it’s a gun instead of a knife this time. “Please don’t.”

Lorenzo turns to look at me, then back to other guards. “Llévala a su cuarto.” He looks back to me and says, “I’ll be right there. No one will lay a finger on you again. Go on.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I can’t see anymore blood, I stand up and move quickly down the hall. I have to keep a hand on the wall to steady myself. My throbbing head is so dizzy. I’m pretty sure a guard is following me, but I don’t even look to see. 

As soon as I get to the stairs, I collapse. I’m awake, but I can’t move anymore. I just want to cry. I just want to get my little girl and go home!

A gunshot rings out down the hall, and I know Alberto is dead. 

“Señora, por favor...we go up,” says the guard. He’s obviously afraid to touch me.

I sit myself up on the stairs and hang my head. How stupid I was for leaving Lorenzo’s bed. I got a man killed. He was horrible to me, but I didn’t want him dead. My body quakes with sobs.

“Alexis…” Lorenzo is kneeling in front of me. His hands are in my hair, and he’s pulling up my face to look at him. “Are you ok?”

I shake my head. I’m anything but ok.

“Do you need a doctor?”

I shake my head again. It hurts, but it’s fine. “Did you have to kill him?”

He takes a deep sigh…“Baby, he knew. I told them all you were mine. I told them not to touch you. He KNEW, and he did it anyway.”

“I was doing something stupid, though.”

“I don’t care if you hold a gun to my head, NO ONE touches you but me.”

“Couldn’t you just fire him?”

Lorenzo looks like he’s almost going to laugh, “So he can join one of my rivals and tell them everything he knows? Impossible. He knew the consequences for hurting you, and he did it anyway. I won’t let anyone harm you. Your soul is MINE, you understand me? You’re MINE.”

I nod my head, but the truth is, I don’t understand. Where is the intensity of his feelings for me coming from? We’ve only just kissed, just slept together, and he’s as possessive as...as...Luis was over Brenda.

Dear God. All the Alcazars are out of their minds.

He wraps me in his arms and lifts me up, carrying me to my room. This is starting to feel all too familiar. I lay my head on his chest because it feels good. 

When we get in my room, Lorenzo lays me down in bed. He pulls off my robe and covers me with my blankets. He sits on the edge of the bed and strokes my hair. It feels good on my aching head.

I notice all he’s wearing is his pants from earlier in the day, but he’s making no move to take them off and get into bed.

“Aren’t you staying?” I ask.

“Do you want me to?”

I nod. I can’t imagine sleeping alone tonight.

“I thought you were angry with me.”

I don’t know what I’m feeling. I’m feeling everything all at once.

He takes off his pants and climbs into bed. His naked body against mine is a soothing ointment for my distress. A distraction from the reality of my shit life.

I start kissing his neck. His skin on my lips wakes my body, and turns off my mind.

“Alexis...we don’t have to do this right now.” His hand is caressing my cheek like he doesn’t really want me to stop.

“I want you. I want to forget...everything.”

He pulls my chin up to face him. “You sure?”

I nod, “Please...kiss me.”

His eyes are worried, but I can see he wants me, too. He drops his head and kisses my lips. He really can’t refuse me anything when I ask him so nicely. His arms wrap around me, and he rolls me on my back. 

I can’t tell if he’s in pain anymore. He doesn’t show it, and I don’t ask. 

His mouth moves down my throat, and my body relaxes in all the ways that matter. Lorenzo has a good mouth. A sensual mouth. I think he’s going to pleasure me as some sort of apology, or maybe it’s his way of taking care of me. It doesn’t matter right now, it’s just what I need. 

As he licks my sex, my thoughts are gone from anything else. I just pay attention to how I feel, and how quickly he learns my body, how he pays attention to what I like. I like how he seems to get lost in what he’s doing. He’s enjoying me. I get off on it.

I’ll think about the blood on his hands later, when their not grabbing my ass to press my sex so firmly to his mouth. Or maybe I won’t...avoidance of reality seems to be the only thing keeping me going right now, and the only thing that’s going to get my baby back.


	10. Commerce of Intimacy

Commerce of Intimacy

_______________

 

I didn’t sleep well last night. I needed Lorenzo to fuck me to sleep after waking a few more times. It doesn’t escape me that fucking a murderer might be the reason I’m not sleeping so well. But he was sweet, kind, and really good at fucking, and I’m more certain now than ever I’m going to be able to get him to help me find Scout.

I don’t believe he took her. I don’t believe he could look me in the eyes while laying in bed so vulnerable together without that immense guilt for my suffering. He’s just too authentic with me, and doesn’t like to see me in pain. 

Maybe I’m the one being manipulated here, but I just don’t think so.

I wake alone in the late morning. I shouldn’t be surprised he’s gone. He’s a busy man. 

I just don’t want to be alone. 

A throbbing ache pulses through my head when I sit up. I track down what’s left of the Ibuprofen as I try to figure out if it’s a hangover or a concussion. They’re not mutually exclusive, of course.

My room feels so empty without Lorenzo. It’s making me anxious. Why am I anxious? I can handle being alone. I PREFER being alone most of the time.

I force myself to brush my teeth and complete my morning ablutions. In between each task, it’s torture for me not to pick up the phone. Turning to Lorenzo has become a compulsion overnight.

I’m done fighting it.

I put his robe back on, get the phone, and dial his extension. Expecting voicemail to pick up like the last couple times I called, I’m surprised when he answers on the first ring.

“Good morning, Alexis.”

“Hi…” I don’t even know what I want to say. ‘Come back’ seems a little needy. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t make me ask. “I’ll be there in a minute. I’m wrapping up a meeting.”

“You don’t have to…” I say feebly.

“I’m on my way.”

I don’t want to fight him. I want him here.

I sit on the chaise outside to let my Ibuprofen kick in. I wonder how long this ‘minute’ of his will take, and, thank God, as I’m in the process of just beginning to wonder, that minute is up. He doesn’t even knock when he comes in anymore. He also doesn’t ask when he lays with me on the chaise. He makes room for himself as he wraps his arms around me. 

No more ‘May I?’ from him. He’s claimed me as his, and his imposition on my space is a certainty. I bury my face in his chest and inhale.

For a moment, my heart settles.

“Good morning, baby,” Lorenzo says, kissing my head.

“Good morning.” My voice is hoarse and scratchy, it must be the alcohol.

He pulls my chin up and kisses my lips. It’s a much more pleasant sensation than the morning’s headache. But that already seems to be disappering. 

“How are you this morning?”

“My head hurts, but the drugs are kicking in.”

His hand runs through my hair and gently rubs my scalp. “You have a little bump back here.” He sighs in frustration, “I’m so sorry he hurt you.”

I don’t like thinking about HIM. In the clarity of the morning, I’m glad Lorenzo killed him.

“You’re shaking,” says Lo.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Give yourself a break, Alexis. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since you were attacked.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m so needy for you this morning. I didn’t like waking up without you.”

He nuzzles my cheek. “You’re needy for me?”

“Mmhm.”

He squeezes me tighter.

“I’m sorry I left your room last night,” I say. “I’m sorry for causing all that trouble.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. But, why did you leave?”

“I don’t know. I was overwhelmed and wanted to talk to someone who wasn’t you. And I was drunk. It’s never a good idea for me to get drunk anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

I look in his eyes. It’s embarrassing to admit, “I’m an alcoholic, Lorenzo. After that mess with Julian...I...I have a problem trying to escape with alcohol. And getting drunk tends to cause its own problems.”

Lorenzo grumbled, “Tell me what he did to you.”

“You already know.”

“No, I know what the papers said about it.”

“The papers were accurate. He was going to let me take the fall for a crime he committed...I wore a wire to get a confession out of him...he found out, and I ended up with a dagger to my throat...the same one Helena used on my mother.”

“How did you get away?”

“Sonny showed up. The police think Sonny stabbed him to get him off me. The truth is, I stabbed him to get him off Sonny.”

Lorenzo holds me tighter and tighter as I speak. His tension is much like last night when he was protecting me from Alberto. 

He says, “Why did you come here with Julian after everything he did to you?”

“I told you, it’s complicated. He said he was coerced by his psychotic sister to hurt me…”

“Alexis,” he chides.

“I know. Believe me, I know. But remember, Lorenzo, seven months ago, we both lost nearly everyone we love. We’ve both been grieving their loss and both been looking for Scout. It was easy to see comfort in each other.”

“Do you still love him?”

“No,” I lie. I don’t feel guilty in the slightest. My love for Julian is none of Lorenzo’s business. “How could I love a man who hurt me so terribly?”

Lorenzo looks down in my eyes, “I hurt you.”

Yes, he has, but I have a habit of caring for people who hurt me.

I shake my head and play my role. “You never tried to kill me...and certainly not in that way...the way Helena did my mother…”

“I’ve still done terrible things to you. Yet you’re here in my arms. You’ve invited me into your bed.”

I look in his eyes. “And I’ve done terrible things to you.” I can still feel the knife sticking into Luis.

“We’re a sick pair, aren’t we?” he smiles.

I laugh. “That we are.”

“But a pair, nonetheless. We fit, Alexis.”

“In a twisted, messed up way...I guess we do.”

He takes my hand and interlocks our fingers. It amuses me how big his hands are...I wonder how many people they’ve killed...Then again, my hands aren’t clean either.

“Can I ask you something?” I say.

“Of course.” He seems wary. He probably should be.

“I know Julian. I know he wouldn’t just leave me here. Neither would Nikolas. And I know Drew Cain and Ava Jerome wouldn’t just leave things alone if they thought you had their daughters.”

“You’re asking if they’re coming after me?” 

I nod.

Lorenzo looks away as he speaks. “I haven’t heard from Julian, to be honest. That’s actually had me a little concerned, because I know he isn’t in Port Charles either. I don’t know where he’s been. Nikolas, Drew, and Ava have been causing me some problems both here and South America.”

I pull my hand from his to touch his ribs. “Did they do this?”

Lorenzo nods.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs, “I know you care for them...I don’t want to put you in the middle.”

I laugh, “I’m literally in the middle of this.”

He kisses my forehead.

“Maybe if I talk to them, they’ll leave you alone,” I say.

He shakes his head. “They’ll think I coerced you to speak for me. The only thing that’s going to stop them is handing over those girls. And like I told you, I don’t have them. I have no clue who has them.”

I sigh, “So, then, the only thing that will get them to back off is if we find the girls ourselves.”

Lorenzo grumbles, “That’s not how this business works, Alexis. They don’t get to attack me, then I give them what they want.”

I grab his face in my hands, “You’re not going to hurt them, are you?”

“I haven’t decided what I’m going to do.”

“They just want their babies, Lorenzo. They want exactly what I want.”

“I know that. To be frank, it’s the only reason they haven’t been killed yet. I’ve had multiple opportunities to finish them, but I knew you’d hate me for it.” He sounds pissed off for his restraint.

“Thank you. Lorenzo…” I plead with everything I have, “you haven’t heard anything about Scout, have you? Do you have any idea who took my baby girl?”

“I’m sorry, Alexis. I really don’t know anything.” He looks terribly sad for me. 

I feel tears pressing at the back of my eyes. “When I think of what might be happening to her…”

“Don’t,” he shakes his head. “Don’t think about that.”

“How can I not? She’s a baby. She doesn’t have her father or her mother or me. She doesn’t have anyone, except maybe Avery if they’re keeping them together. And what can one baby do to comfort another?”

“Alexis,” his voice breaks. “I’m so sorry for you...for them.”

“I’d hoped you would’ve heard something, or maybe knew someone who hated Sonny enough to do all this.”

Lorenzo shakes his head. “I haven’t. You believe me, right? You believe I wouldn’t do this to little girls like my Lila?”

I nod. I do believe him.

The relief of my faith in him is plain on his face. “Look, Alexis, I have been asking around. Nothing has come up.”

I suck in a breath in shock. “You have?”

He nods. “Of course I have. It’s been a little difficult to keep asking, though, with the girls’ parents on my back.”

“But you will try? You’ll keep asking?”

He kisses me firm. When he pulls back, he says, “I’ll do more than ask...I’ll start demanding. I can be pretty persuasive when I need to be.”

Hope pushes the tears from my eyes, and they drip down my cheeks. “You’d do that for me?”

He wipes my tears and says, “I told you, baby, I’ll give you anything you ask.”

I hug him tight, squeezing with everything I have.

Thankfully, he doesn’t waste any time. He gets on his cell phone and starts making calls right in my room. I wish I understood Spanish, because the majority of his conversations are going completely over my head. A couple conversations seemed to be in Portuguese. I wonder how many languages he knows. 

A thought occurs to me, that for all my intelligence, it really is only useful in one language. Tomas was right, I need to start learning.

Even though I don’t understand, I hang on his every word. The rhythm of the languages in his deep tone is a beautiful sound. He’s authoritative and calm, for the most part, but once in awhile he gets biting and harsh. My own heart races at those times, and I can only imagine what the people on the other end of the line are feeling.

I want to reward him for this. If I didn’t think it would distract him, I’d get on my knees here and now and give him a blow job. I’m truly not above it, and when he’s helping me this way, I want it probably even more than he does.

I think he can see it in my eyes when he peers over at me. He’s listening to a rambling voice on the line, and he’s staring at me with no little heat.

Don’t worry, baby, I tell him with my eyes. You’ll get what’s coming to you. 

The phone calls take longer than I expect, and the longer it drags on, the more anxious I am to know what’s going on. Instead of interrupting, I go back outside. His unintelligible mutterings drift through the screen door as I stand at the balcony and look out to the ocean.

I think I’m ready to take Lorenzo up on his offer to leave the house. I want to spend some time on the beach...to soak my toes in the warm water and hot sand. I can almost hear Scout’s peals of laughter as we’re chased by wave after wave.

I’m so caught up in my fantasy I don’t hear Lorenzo come outside, so when he puts his hands on my waist I give a little jump.

“How did it go?” I ask.

“I’ve let everyone I can think of know how important this information is to me. I’ll follow up with them tomorrow and see if they’ve been convinced to tell me what they know, or to find out information for me for a significant reward.”

“Drew and Ava will reimburse any money you spend, I’m sure of it.”

Lorenzo huffs into my neck, “Some rewards aren’t financial, and they can’t be given by people like Scout’s father.”

That sounds ominous.

“Thank you, Lorenzo. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

He places kisses in the soft skin behind my ear, “Then it’s worth it.”

I lean back against him. His hands are gripping my waist as he keeps raining kisses on my neck. It’s time for his reward. I untie the robe and pull it off one shoulder, then the next. 

Lorenzo groans as he steps back enough to let the robe drop to the floor, but he’s back in an instant wrapping himself around me. His cock is pressing against my ass, and his mouth is on my shoulder. I arch my back, pushing my ass into him.

His hands come off me, and I hear him pulling open his shirt and pushing down his pants. I lean forward against the cement barrier, opening myself up from behind.

He’s fevered when he’s on me again. I feel his hot, wet mouth on my back as his cock finds my pussy. He shoves in, no need to wait any longer. I’m ready, he’s ready. 

I don’t see any staff, but who’s to say that’s not because they’ve already seen us and made themselves scarce. The thought doesn’t shame me, it doesn’t turn me on any less.

His cock is thick and heavy and beautifully intrusive. I love how hard he fucks me, even when doting on me. One of his arms wraps around me, pulling me tight against his body as his pelvis bangs against my ass. His other reaches down for my clit, rubbing with the rhythm of his thrusts. 

“Lorenzo,” I moan. I love the sound of his name on my lips while he fucks me. He’s everything I need him to be right now.

The longer he fucks, the faster he moves. A night together is all it has taken to learn how he moves. I can tell when his pace is determined...he’ll come soon if I let him keep going. I’m not ready for that yet. I haven’t given him his reward.

I drop my hips down, away from his cock. He thrusts again still in his rhythm, but this time he’s not in my pussy. He grunts in frustrated disappointment.

I reach behind me and grab his cock, hot and wet from my sex. This time, I bring it to my ass, and arch my back again. I can hear the catch in his breath, and feel the vibrating excitement in his body.

I relax my muscles and push back against his cock. His hips stay firm, and I start sliding over him. Of its own accord, my ass squeezes the intruding cock, but I’m not sure if it’s to bring him in deeper, or push him out. I breathe deep and let him push in.

Lorenzo is grunting and moaning and holding me tighter than he ever has before. We press against each other to bring him all the way in. He’s got me so full, and I’m grateful he stills to let me adjust. But he needn’t wait so long...I’m eager for more.

I pull away and push back. His solid body doesn’t move as my hips go back and forth. He nuzzles into my neck, pushing my hair aside. My pussy quivers and my knees shake, so I steady myself with my hands on the rail. Lorenzo keeps still, letting my ass fuck his cock.

I need just a little more stimulation to get me there. “Lorenzo...please…”

In that moment, he takes over. His hands grab my hips, and pull my ass tighter over his cock. He’s deep in me now, much deeper than before. Out and in again, and I feel so full.

One of his hands hooks under my arm, and grabs the opposite breast, the other reaches around my waist to my pussy. He strokes my clit with his next thrust.

“More!” I demand. I need him to fill me more.

He finally lets loose and fucks my ass and fingers my pussy. He bites my shoulder and squeezes my nipple. I’m being invaded by this man from every direction, and still, it’s not enough. The palm of his hand is on my clit and he’s pushing more fingers in my sex.

My body is shivering, shaking, completely out of control. He’s got that rhythm, the one I know means he’s going to come. He’s just waiting for me to fall first. 

I reach behind me to grab his head and turn to kiss his mouth. His tongue against mine is the last straw, and my body can’t take anymore. I’m squeezing his fingers and his cock. I’m sucking his tongue. I’m screaming against his lips. My whole body is shuddering in waves. 

There is no orgasm like one that comes from everywhere at once. Nothing else can make me lose my mind so completely.

His hand in my pussy is being used as leverage to pull my body harder and faster against him. He won’t let my orgasm die! I feel my cum dripping down our legs, and still it’s rolling through my body.

Finally, he releases my mouth and growls. He bites my shoulder and thrusts one, two, three more times. I can feel his cum shooting in my ass. It’s a sensation so different than when he comes in my pussy. 

We stay there leaning against the rail, unmoving, and still connected. But my body is losing structure, so he pulls out and holds me upright. A full body orgasm always wipes me out, like a severe panic attack or a seizure. Lorenzo’s weaker than normal, too, I can feel it, but still, he lifts me. 

He’s catching his breath as he takes me to the bathroom and starts the shower. As we wait for the water to warm, he presses me up against the wall. His eyes tell me so much about the storm still raging in his mind. His attachment to me, his affection for me, seems to be growing exponentially. 

And if I’m honest, mine is growing for him, too. He’s going to help me find my Scout. I’m so grateful. I think he can see it in my eyes. 

As though he can’t help himself, he kisses me. It’s a soft kiss, a loving and adoring kiss. In truth, it reminds me so much of Julian, the way he treats me when I know he loves me. Except I can’t think of Julian right now. Julian can’t get me Scout back.

My weak arms are around Lorenzo’s neck wanting to keep him close. When he realizes I don’t intend on letting him go, he just puts his arms around me and pulls me into the shower as I kiss him.

It’s a practical shower. He washes me gently and thoroughly. He’s particularly attentive to my ass and my pussy. I notice how gentle he is with my tender head as he washes my hair. I don’t have the energy to wash him. He leans me against the wall as he washes his cock and the rest of his body. 

I realize by the masculine, spicy scent, he’s moved his soaps into my bathroom. He really is an intrusive man.

After he dries me down, I insist on brushing my hair before he settles me back in bed. I lie on my stomach and watch him crawl in next to me. He lies on his side, his head propped on his hand as he touches my bare body.

I don’t have any words for him right now. Just gratitude. I’m certain he can see it in my eyes. I can see it in his. 

But he does have words for me. “That was incredible, Alexis. You’re incredible.”

I smile. “It was, wasn’t it? And to think it was only the first time. We have forever to do that all we want.”

His eyes flare a moment, and a grin stretches over his lips. “You’ll make a man lose his mind.”

“I like it when you lose it.”

“Mmmm,” he groans. He scoots closer, his chest against my side. His hand is caressing my body, particularly focused on my ass.

“Do you really think you can find Scout?”

“For you...anything.” He kisses my shoulder.

“You’d start a mob war over it?”

“Absolutely.” His kisses trail down my back and over the cheeks of my ass. “The ass that launched a thousand ships.”

I snort in laughter as he chuckles at his own joke. Except it’s not really a joke. He’s back to kissing and licking my soft swells.

“Except you made those calls before you had my ass.”

“Don’t ruin the story with facts, Alexis. My version is far more romantic.” He lays his head on my ass like it’s some sort of fleshy pillow, and he’s snaking his arms beneath me to hold me tight.

“You’ll be the butt of every joke.”

“Your puns are ass-enine.”

I laugh, rolling over in his arms. He puts up some mild resistance to letting my ass go, but once he sees my pussy in front of him, he smiles and lays his head back down.

“Thank you, Lorenzo. I didn’t understand you on those calls, but I’m certain they cost you something. I don’t know how to share my gratitude.”

“You’re welcome.” He places a kiss on my sex and lays down again.

“I wish I understood Spanish. I really need to learn.”

He looks up at me with his eyes glittering. For some reason the thought is giving him joy. “I can teach you.”

“How do I know you won’t just teach me all the dirty words?”

“Are there other words?”

“You tell me...are you calling all your associates and asking for a piece of their ass?”

He laughs, “Oh, Alexis, I never take just a piece of anything.”

“My mistake.”

“I’m not kidding, I’ll teach you Spanish...For instance,” he gets up on his elbows and spreads my legs open, settling between them. He licks up and down my pussy, then says, “Mi lengua está en tu panocha.”

“And that means you think I’m smart and have good character?”

“Exactly.” He licks again, “Tu panocha es rosita y muy sabrosa.”

“You enjoy our intellectual conversations?”

“More than anything.” He kisses me again, sucking up my clit. 

I truly thought I was too spent for sex, but he’s proving me wrong. I’m just starting to lose myself in what he’s doing when he pulls away and looks up.

I grumble, “How do you say, ‘Don’t stop?’”

He says seriously, “I will teach you, you know.”

I smile softly and wonder why it’s so important to him for me to speak his language. “I know you will.”

“I’ll get you some books and Rosetta Stone. I even have…” he looks down, almost embarrassed.

“What?”

“I have some books I bought Lila when I thought I might get her back one day. They’re children’s books, but they’re effective for new learners. I knew her mother wouldn’t be teaching her.”

My heart melts, “Oh, Lo.”

He’s deeply thoughtful a moment and says, “I’ll get your little mockingbird back, Alexis. No matter what it takes.” He plants a firm, closed mouth kiss on my sex. When his sincere blue eyes look up at me, I think a part of me might be falling for the man. 

It’s a strange commerce we have of trading sex, affection, and heroic deeds. There’s an inherent wrongness about it that tells me this can’t end well, but neither of us wants to think about that. He just wants to please me, so I let him, and in letting him, I get everything I want. 

When he makes me come again, I am truly spent. So as he crawls over and fucks me so sweet and gentle, it’s all I can do to just lie there and enjoy it. I really couldn’t have chosen a better captor.

I cuddle into him when he’s done, and my sleepless night begins catching up with me. In that dreamy haze between sleep and wake, visions of Scout, Sam, and Kristina race through my mind.

“You know…” I mumble, “It’s probably better you hardly knew Lila, because loving the person they become makes it all the harder to lose them.”

“Would you really give up knowing and loving them to spare yourself the pain?”

“I guess I wouldn’t. Does that make me the lucky one?”

“No, Alexis. This is all one epic tragedy.”

I drift off in the comfort of his arms, and hope he’ll still be here when I wake up.


	11. Bird Watching

Bird Watching

_______________

 

“This isn’t revenge,” I say. My legs are wrapped around Lorenzo’s waist in as he sways with the ocean waves. The water is so warm, yet somehow still refreshing.

“I’m holding you captive. How is that not revenge?” He’s grinning like he knows how ridiculous that sounds. I can’t see his eyes through his sunglasses, but I know they’re glittering in amusement. “Making you miserable in captivity is how I live with myself for wanting you so bad.”

I shake my head at his obvious lie. “I think you no longer have any problems living with yourself for wanting me.”

He’s smiling bright. “Maybe you’re right.”

“And I’m not your captive anymore.”

“You don’t think so?”

I shake my head and kiss his lips. “If I left, you wouldn’t stop me. In fact, you’d probably make sure I got home safe.”

“You think I have it in me to let you go? Even if I don’t want revenge, it doesn’t mean I don’t want you. I can be possessive, Alexis.”

“Letting me leave doesn’t have to mean letting me go. Sonny and Jason are dead. You can come back to the States now.”

“Who says I want anything to do with the States?”

“I’d be there. Isn’t that reason enough?”

He smiles. “You’re confident in my indulgence of you.”

“You said you’d give me anything I want. I believe you.”

“And what you want is to go home?”

“Not yet, but someday. I want to see my daughter. Molly is the only family I have left.”

“I can send for her.”

I shake my head, “Don’t bring her here. I don’t want her near your business.”

Lorenzo sighs, “My business is going to be an issue for us, isn’t it?”

I kiss him softly before I respond. It gives me time to craft the lie, “Not if it gets me back my girl.”

I know I’ve pushed the right buttons in him...that all his acquired power is something to be feared and respected, that it’s necessary, that I approve.

I don’t. It doesn’t mean I won’t use it to get Scout. I understand moral ambiguity applies to me as much as it does to him. 

A particularly large wave hits us and splashes our faces. 

“High tide is coming in,” he says. He inches closer to shore.

“I’m not ready to go back yet.”

“You like it out here?”

I kiss the tip of his nose, “I like it out here with you. It’s calming, and peaceful, and distracting.”

“It can always be like this, you know.”

“Maybe it could...until high tide...” I kiss him to hide the knowledge I can’t be THIS woman forever. I’m barely surviving being her now.

But if I’m honest with myself, I also can’t imagine never being her again.

 

_____________________

 

When we get back to the house, Lorenzo is called away to deal with some issues in Guatemala. I use the time to check in with Tomas. It’s been too long since I’ve seen him, and I don’t consider talking to him through a crack in the door “seeing him.” I want to check and make sure he’s well.

I don’t have any problems with Tomas’s new guard. He’s actually quite deferential to me, almost like I’m the lady of the house. 

When he opens the door, I’m surprised by what I see. Tomas comes out clean, showered, and shaved. He’s wearing khaki pants and a polo. His tattoo is visible on his arm, but he’s otherwise indistinguishable from Lorenzo. He even has…

“What happened to your face?”

“Well hello to you, too, Alexis.” Tomas smiles without humor. “Alcazar really likes his ‘eye for an eye’ brand of justice. I cut his face, so he returned the favor.”

I reach to touch the healing wound. It looks exactly like Lorenzo’s, except maybe just a little more pink. “It looks like he did this awhile ago.”

“It’s probably been a month, at least.”

“Oh, Tomas.” I don’t know why I’m constantly shocked by Lorenzo’s cruelty. It’s good to have a reminder now and then. I grab his hand and lead him to the sitting room. He interlocks our fingers, and I know he’s starved for human contact. 

“I’m guessing I have you to thank for the regular showers and bed?” he says.

I shake my head in surprise. “I don’t think so. Every time I talk about you, Lorenzo gets upset. He doesn’t much like our friendship.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve had an influence on him. He’s even kept the room a little warmer lately.”

When we get to the sitting room and put distance between us and the guard, he asks, “How are you, Alexis? You had a pretty rough night the other evening.”

“I’m fine. Really.”

Tomas is scrutinizing me as though he’s not sure whether or not to believe me. “From what I heard, Alcazar seems quite taken with you.”

I nod. “That seems to be the case.”

“You’ve done exactly what you set out to do.”

“Almost.”

“Is he going to give you the girls?”

“He doesn’t seem to have them. He’s been working the last couple days to locate them. He’s helping me get them back.”

Tomas narrows his eyes.

“You don’t believe him?” I ask.

Tomas shrugs. “I don’t know, Alexis. I’m locked up in a room all day. I have my doubts about his authenticity, as you know.”

“I know.”

“You don’t seem to have doubts anymore.” 

I shrug. “I’ve been with him while he’s making the calls. It sounds real.”

“That could be a show.”

“And, like you said, he seems to be quite taken with me…”

“All the more reason for him to hide what he’s done. Think about it, Alexis, who else has this insane obsession with reciprocity?” Tomas gestures at the cut on his face. “Nikolas killed Diego, so he took Nikolas. Sonny took Lorenzo away from Lila Rae, so he stole Sonny’s daughter.”

“And Scout?”

“You took his brother from him, Alexis, so he took your granddaughter.”

“If that were the case, wouldn’t he have taken my brother rather than my granddaughter?”

“Does your brother mean anything to you?”

I shake my head. “No. I hate him.”

“If the girls are brought home to you, Alexis, my belief is that he had them the whole time. He didn’t get a chance to have a family, so he took the same chance from the people who made that happen.”

Tomas’s words are making me sick to my stomach. I’ve been feeling so sure of Lorenzo, but his argument is compelling.

Then again, Tomas HATES Lorenzo. He could only ever see the worst in him. He doesn’t SEE Lorenzo like I do, doesn’t feel his vulnerability. Lorenzo would never show that side of himself to the man who tried to kill him.

“Either way, it doesn’t matter...whatever brings Scout home,” I say, brushing off his concerns as though I don’t have any investment in Lorenzo’s goodness either way.

“Alexis…” Tomas is looking sympathetically at me, “you don’t think it’ll be over once you get Scout, do you? You think he’s going to let you go?”

I can’t think about consequences right now. “I’m doing what needs to be done,” I say with a finality that is meant to end the conversation. I change the subject to the first benign topic that crosses my mind. “Now, tell me about growing up in Puerto Rico. What was it like?”

Tomas looks worried for me, but at least he’s a gentleman and doesn’t keep harping on. He starts talking about his childhood and how he learned to paint, and how his sister Téa was always so supportive.

“Wait,” I make a connection, “Is her name Delgado, too? Is Téa Delgado from Llanview, Pennsylvania is your sister?”

“You know her?”

“We’ve met. She’s a lawyer, too, isn’t she? Téa had her baby the same time my daughter Sam had her son. Todd Manning switched Téa’s stillborn baby for Danny. Téa raised my grandson for the first couple months of his life thinking he was her child.”

“Téa was pregnant when I left. You mean she lost her baby?” He looks heart-broken.

“Made all the worse by Todd’s interference.”

“Fucking Manning.” Tomas looks furious. 

I feel terrible for upsetting him with yet another familial loss. I scramble for a reason to give him hope. “Imagine Téa’s joy when you get out of here and return home to her.”

He doesn’t look at me when he says, “You don’t think I’m really going home, do you? You think Lorenzo is going to let me go?”

“Maybe I could get him to…”

Tomas stops me with a hand on my arm. “No, Alexis. The best I can hope for is to keep Lorenzo’s vengeance focused on me and off Téa and Dani. Those sweet girls can’t afford to lose each other.”

_____________________

 

Overall, it was a somber meeting with Tomas, and I leave in worse spirits then when I came. I return to my room craving reassurances from Lorenzo. 

Unfortunately, they don’t come anytime soon. 

They don’t come by dinnertime either. 

They don’t even come when it’s time to say goodnight. I don’t hear from Lorenzo for the rest of the day.

They don’t come until after I’m fast asleep, and being woken with a gentle hand stroking my face. 

“Alexis? Wake up, baby,” his sweet voice rumbles.

My eyes open to find a pair of crystal blues muted by the darkness. 

“Hey, you.” I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss. He moans and splits my lips with his tongue. I’m confused why he’s not naked and crawling into bed with me. It takes me a moment to realize he’s wearing a suit in the middle of the night. 

I pull away and look him up and down, “Are you going somewhere?”

He kisses me again before he says. “I have to leave for Guatemala.”

“Now?”

He nods. “The plane will be ready in about twenty minutes.”

“Is it Nikolas or Drew? Are they causing problems again?” 

He shakes his head and smiles. “No, baby. It’s not them.”

I sit up and my heart races, “Scout? Avery?”

He nods and cups my face. “A Central American cartel has them. I have some old connections with a few ranking members. I cut a deal to get them back.”

“What kind of deal?”

“Opening trade routes, ceding some territory, promises of peace and lack of retaliation. They didn’t realize the girls were so important to me, and were very amenable to negotiation.”

“Why would they take them?”

“You know why, Alexis. Sonny and Jason had a lot of enemies. Sam did, too.”

“Who are these people?”

Lorenzo sucked in a breath as if knowing I wouldn’t like the answer. “They have connections with the old Ruiz Clan.”

“Manny Ruiz?”

Lorenzo nods, “His son and Javier’s son.”

I feel a sinking feeling in my gut. My shame at helping with Manny’s defense before learning Sam was my daughter flushes through me. Lorenzo knows exactly what I’m feeling. He was a witness for the defense, and he blatantly lied on the stand in favor of Manny.

“Why did they take the girls? What did they want with them?”

“They said they didn’t want to kill the babies, but couldn’t leave them with the dead bodies. They brought them home, and their wives have been raising them. They claim the girls are safe, healthy, and completely unharmed.”

I move to get out of bed, but I’m held back by a hand across my stomach.

“Alexis, you’re not coming with me.” For a moment I think he’s joking, but his face is dead serious.

“The hell I’m not!” I try to push past him, but he’s far stronger than I am.

“These are dangerous people.” His eyes are pleading with me.

“And they have my granddaughter.”

“I won’t let them know that the reason I want these girls is because of you. If you come, they’ll see you. They’ll know.”

“I don’t care!”

“I do! It puts you at risk!”

“You think I care about risk to myself?”

“What if my business has problems with the Ruiz’s in the future? Who do you think they’ll target first? The person I’m most vulnerable to. YOU!”

“This isn’t negotiable, Lorenzo. I’m coming with you to get my baby. She’s been through enough. She needs me!”

“She’ll have you here when we get back.”

Lorenzo cradles my face in his hands and tries to kiss me. I pull away.

“Damn it, Alexis. I’ll call the fucking deal off if you insist on coming. Scout might be the most important person in your life right now, but you’re the most important person in mine. I’d rather have you hate me and alive than happy with me and dead.”

I smack him as hard as I can in the chest. His responding grunt reminds me his ribs aren’t fully healed. I don’t care right now. I want my baby!

His arms wrap around me and pull me in tight so I can’t hit him anymore. He buries his face in my neck as he squeezes me. I only struggle a moment before I give up in defeat. I can’t out muscle him.

“Trust me to bring them back to you, baby.” He mumbles close to my ear. “I know what this means to you. I promise I’ll take care of them.”

“I should be there for them.”

“You’ll only be a distraction for me. I need you here.”

He pulls back now that I’m no longer fighting him. Just because I’m not fighting, doesn’t mean I’m not livid. “I’m so angry with you,” I tell him.

“I know. But when I put your Scout in your arms tomorrow, you’ll forgive me.”

I’m breathing heavy, and tears are falling from my eyes. His words start sinking in. “Tomorrow?”

“That’s the plan. That’s why I’m leaving in…” he checks his watch, “fifteen minutes.”

“You’re going to have my baby in my arms tomorrow?” My heavy breath gets fast and shallow. “You swear to me?”

He smiles gently and nods. “I swear. Twenty-four hours. Tops.”

I grab him by the lapels of his coat. “You better not be lying to me...giving me false promises…”

He grabs my leg and yanks me down. In a moment, his body is over me, and his arms are supporting his weight on both sides of my head. I’m caged in, and all I can do is stare up into his eyes. He looks at me with a passionate intensity.

“I told you, Alexis...I’ll give you anything you want. Anything. And Scout is at the top of that list. I haven’t lied to you since the moment you stepped in my house, and I’m not about to start now.”

I’m still catching my breath from his manhandling. How easy it is for him to toss me around. My blood is racing as I’m caught beneath his heavy weight. 

But when I look in his eyes, I KNOW he’s telling the truth. No doubts. No questions. No half-sure...now, only whole-hearted. 

I lift off the bed, closing the small gap between us and kiss him as hard as I can. I don’t try to be sensual or seductive. I’m just grateful that this man who hated me so much only a couple months ago is willing to risk everything for me. Part of me thinks he’s deserved better than I’ve given him. I need to give him MORE.

I’d sell my soul to the devil for my granddaughter; it just so happens the devil has gorgeous blue eyes and a penchant for making me happy. And for the first time since starting this mess, I relinquish the last vestiges of self-ownership and give myself to him completely. The Reaper of Souls indeed.

I free his cock from his pants and wrap my legs around his waist. He still has ten minutes before he has to leave. We fuck hard and fast. He’s sweating in his suit and jacket, and I hope he has an extra on the plane. My hips are meeting him thrust for thrust. I want him to know how badly I want this, how I’m giving myself over to him. All my guilt is gone. My shame gone. 

We both come with minutes to spare. 

I keep him inside me for our last remaining moments, kissing him, loving him, rewarding him. I know by his desperate passion for me that his words, his deeds, are absolute truth.

“Here,” he says. He reaches in his jacket pocket and pulls out a phone, setting it on the nightstand. “Call Molly. Call Drew. Call whoever you want.”

“Can I tell Drew you’re going to get her?”

He nods. “Tell him he can pick her up in two days. You’ll call him when she gets here.”

I kiss him again. I don’t know how else to express my gratitude, the words seem so inefficient.

He peels himself off me and tucks himself back into his pants. He looks a wrinkled mess, but doesn’t seem to care. He bends over me one last time and kisses me goodbye. 

As he’s walking to the door I try to think of some well-wish or words of gratitude and encouragement, but they all fall short. He just looks back at me before the door closes and gives me a soft smile.

And once again...I’m alone and waiting...

 

_______________________

 

My new cell phone is ringing, and I jump to the table to answer it hoping it’s Lorenzo with news. It’s Drew...again.

“Hi, Drew.”

“Any word?”

“Not yet. He said twenty-four hours. He has time.”

“Don’t you think he’s cutting it close?”

“No. If Lorenzo thought he could get them here sooner, he would’ve said so.”

“You really trust this guy, Alexis? Ava and I have destroyed two of his factories, and killed God knows how many of his men. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who forgives easily, much less bestows gifts to the people than wrong him.”

“This isn’t about YOU in Lorenzo’s mind. He’s doing this for ME.”

“Nikolas and Julian told us how much he hates you.”

I sigh in frustration. I’ve been vague so far about Lorenzo’s motivation. I don’t think I can be anymore. “I think he’s fallen for me, Drew.”

“What?!”

“Reluctantly, of course, but I’m certain of it. He’ll do anything I ask.”

“Alexis…” he sounds so wary.

“You have a better plan?

“No, but what if it’s all a hoax? What if he set this whole thing up? It seems more likely.”

“I don’t believe he did. I don’t believe he would.”

“Wait…” he pauses a moment, “...you haven’t...you don’t...you don’t have feelings for him, too?”

I sigh. I can’t answer that question for myself, much less Drew right now. “I have some degree of affection and gratitude.”

“Alexis…he held Nikolas hostage for years!”

“I know! I know! But he’s risking himself to bring Scout back home at a major financial loss to himself. And he’s doing it because I’ve asked him to. You expect me not to feel some degree of positive emotion toward him?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

A message comes through the phone while he’s still on the line. It’s Lorenzo. I open it and read aloud, “I’ve got them. They’re fine. Be home in 2 hours.”

“Two hours,” says Drew with huffing breaths.

“Two hours.”

He lets out a sob. “You’d think after six months of waiting, two hours would feel like nothing.”

“It’s a fucking eternity.”

He laughs. “God damn it, you’ve got me hoping, Alexis.”

Why am I so worried about all the things that can go wrong in two hours?

“I need to tell Ava,” says Drew. “You’ll call me when they get there? FaceTime me?”

“Of course, I will. Are you any closer to making it out here?”

Ava and Drew had been stuck in a small town some distance outside Caracas. Apparently, in Lorenzo’s attempt to spare Drew and Ava’s lives while also stopping them from attacking more of his properties, he destroyed their vehicles, and blew up their private jet. None of the locals had been willing to do anything to aid Drew in fear of upsetting El Cucuy.

“It’s a waiting game for us. We need transportation. We’ve got a guy who can get us to an airfield in the morning. Maybe we can get to Caracas tomorrow, and hopefully even Mexico by the end of the day. If all goes well, we can be at the villa the day after tomorrow.”

“Good. Any word from Julian?”

“Nothing. I’m getting pretty concerned about that, Alexis. Especially after learning about Alcazar’s growing fondness for you.”

I catch the implication in his tone. “Lorenzo wouldn’t hurt Julian unprovoked.” I don’t know what makes me so certain about that.

“You don’t know what he’d do, Alexis.”

“The last Lorenzo told me, he was looking for Julian and couldn’t find him. I really don’t think he was lying. He sounded concerned.”

“Why wouldn’t Julian return your calls?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. But it’s been less than a day. That’s no reason to panic. Not yet.”

“No, you’re right, not yet. Let’s wait two hours before we decide to panic.”

“Try getting some rest, Drew. Scout is going to need her daddy when she gets here.”

Drew sucks in a breath, and blows out nice and slow. “Thank you, Alexis. Whether this works or not, I know this cost you more than anyone. I’m grateful, Ava’s grateful, and I’m sure Scout will be grateful, too.”

I divert his gratitude, “Go talk to Ava, and get some sleep. I’ll call you in two hours.”

“Bye.”

Still two more hours. I sit and wait some more.

 

_______________________

 

I’m sitting at the foot of the stairs compulsively watching the clock. If Lorenzo would’ve let me stay and wait on the plane, I’d have Scout in my arms already. 

I haven’t slept a wink since Lorenzo left my bed, and I think it’s catching up with me. I keep nodding off and startling myself awake. It’s after dozing a moment that I hear a little voice in my dream. A voice I’ve heard in a hundred dreams before...

“Gramma?”

Except she sounds a little different…

“Gramma?” Little hands are on my face.

I startle awake again and see the most perfect squishy face with adorable, blonde hair and bright, blue eyes smiling at me.

“Scout?”

I wrap her up in my arms before I can figure out if I’m still dreaming. If it’s a dream, I don’t care, it’s a beautiful one. But it can’t be a dream, because I can smell her, I can feel her. 

“My baby girl.” I squeeze her so tight, I really think I might hurt her. But she doesn’t seem to mind. Her little arms are squeezing me, too. “I’m so happy to see you!”

I feel this crash of emotion, and tears are falling from my eyes and into her hair. I look through the tears and see another little girl with dark hair and dark eyes looking so much like her father. 

“Avery!”

Since she’s not my granddaughter I don’t just swoop her up. She’s a little older than Scout, so I’m certain she’ll remember me, but I’m not certain she’ll feel secure. I open my free arm in invitation.

She does recognize me, I am her sister’s mother, after all. She comes to me and I hold them as tight as their little bones will allow.

It takes me a minute to realize we’re not alone. Lorenzo is standing about ten feet away and watching with the softest look in his eyes. He’s obviously exhausted. I forgot he’s been awake even longer than I have. We’re not in our twenties anymore, and this sort of thing isn’t as easy for us as it once may have been.

“Thank you,” I mouth because my voice doesn’t seem to work. 

He gives a small nod and a gentle smile.

“Scout, sweetie, your daddy wants to talk to you. So does your mommy, Avery. Should we go upstairs and call them?”

“Daddy!” says Scout. “Where’s daddy?”

“I get to talk to mommy?” says Avery, with no little incredulity.

“They’re on their way here to come get you and bring you home. They’re coming as fast as they can. But we can call them upstairs in my room. Come on.”

I take their hands and lead them upstairs. I turn to Lorenzo because I don’t hear his footsteps behind us. He standing still watching us leave. He’s probably exhausted and wants to go rest and clean up, but I want to thank him properly. I give my head a tilt in invitation to come with us.

He considers a moment, and I’m worried he might decline, but he ultimately steps forward and follows behind. 

“How are you feeling, girls?” I ask, terrified of the ordeal they’ve been through. I want to know what was done to them. I want to know if someone hurt them. “Are you doing ok?”

“Fine,” they both say in that vague way little ones answer questions. 

“Are you sleepy? Hungry?”

I listen to their sweet little voices that have changed too much in our time apart. I want to ask them if they were hurt while they were gone. I want to ask if someone touched them wrong, or if they were yelled at or hit, but I don’t. That’s for Drew and Ava to decide. My job is to take care of them until their parents come.

When we get to my room, Scout won’t let me go until she sees her daddy’s face on the phone. She pulls the phone out of my hands and talks a mile a minute, while Avery and Ava try to push into the picture to see each other.

I notice Lorenzo on the other side of the room. He’s on his phone, and after a few minutes, I realize he was coordinating food, clothes, and other necessities for the girls. 

It’s not until the girls fall asleep about thirty minutes later that I’m able to pry myself out of Scout’s grip to talk to Lorenzo. As soon as I have a chance, I’ve got my arms around him thanking him over and over in hushed whispers.

“I can’t believe you brought them to me.” 

His tired eyes are giving me the most indulgently affectionate look. “I promised I would.”

“You certainly did.”

His hands are on my hips grazing the bare skin just above my waistband. I bring my lips to his, never so grateful in all my life. He accepts my kiss and my appreciation with open arms and an open mouth. It’s not long before my body is craving him in a way indecent for the presence of children.

Lorenzo moves to turn off the lights as I make sure the girls are fast asleep. He collapses on the couch, and I climb on top of him. 

“How did it go?” I whisper. 

“Just as planned. Perfectly smooth.” He tucks my hair behind my ears as it falls forward with gravity.

I run my fingertips over the dark circles around his eyes. “You look tired.”

He nods. “It’s been a long couple of days.”

“Were the girls scared going with you?”

“I’m pretty sure they were terrified. I couldn’t do much to put them at ease until we left the house. Once we were in the car, I was able to be softer to them. I told them you sent me to come save them and bring them home.”

I smile, “I sent you, huh?”

“Didn’t you?”

“I think I asked you. You chose to go.”

Lorenzo shakes his head, “No, baby. You needed them. There was no choice.”

He’s staring at my lips, so I give him what he wants, and drop my lips to his. The way he sighs deep and licks my tongue tells me just how much my attention means to him.

“This is what it was all for, right here,” he says. His hands find the bare skin of my back, and I know they want to grab so much more, but he’s behaving, and so am I. It’s been years since I’ve had to curtail my sex life due to the presence of young children.

But, God, I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

I kiss him more, like a teenager inviting my boyfriend over when my parents aren’t home. My body can’t help but move against him.

“I should go,” he grunts. “I don’t have the self-control you seem to think I do.”

“I’m sure you want a hot shower and soft bed.”

“That does sound appealing. Both would be better with you in there with me.”

“I can’t wait.”

I kiss him once more before I let him go. His gait is sexy as ever as he walks to the door, if not a little tired. He gives me one last look and a quick wink before he walks out.

I feel no little loss when he’s gone, and I can’t begin to describe the surging waves of affection rolling through me at the thought of the man…The man who kidnapped me...who kidnapped Nikolas and Tomas...who killed Sebastian. It can’t be love. It could only be gratitude and lust and maybe affection, because how could I fall for a man who’s done such heinous things...especially when I’m in love with another. It doesn’t escape my awareness that the other man I love has also done heinous things...maybe even more so.

I can’t think about that right now.

I find the phone and dial a familiar number. A number I’ve tried calling about twenty times today.

It goes straight to voicemail.

“Julian, it’s me. I have Scout and Avery. They’re here with me. Drew and Ava are on their way to pick them up. Call me at this number when you can. I…” I want to say ‘I love you,’ but that feels unfair to him after everything I’ve just done with Lorenzo. “I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

Could Lorenzo possibly have done something to him?

Again, avoidance of these kinds of considerations is the only thing that’s going to get me through this mess with some degree of my sanity intact. I’ll deal with them later.

Instead, I get myself ready for bed and make my way over to Scout and Avery. They’re curled up together in the middle of the bed. It looks like they’ve grown used to sleeping with each other by the way Avery has a protective arm over Scout. Maybe a baby is pretty well suited for comforting another baby.

I climb in bed behind Scout and wrap the girls in my arms. I try my best to stay awake and watch their angelic faces breathe deep and relaxed. My efforts are futile. For the first time since last Christmas, I have no trouble getting to sleep.

 

___________________

 

I was able to have about thirty-six hours of uninterrupted time with the girls. Lorenzo checked in on us a few times, and even ate dinner with us last night, but aside from that, he’s made himself scarce. He says he’s been busy working, and the time it took to track down and get the girls has put him behind.

For some reason, I think he’s avoiding me.

It’s still a couple hours before Drew and Ava are due to arrive. The girls are watching Moana in Spanish, and I’m shocked to realize they seem to understand every word. They’ve really put me to shame.

With Scout’s attention focused on the giant, singing crab on screen, I pull myself away from her grasp and call Lorenzo. He answers on the first ring.

“Hello, Alexis.”

“Hi. Are you busy?”

“Never too busy. Do you need something?”

“Not really. I...I just miss you.”

He’s quiet a moment, then asks softly, “You do?”

“Of course, I do.”

“...I’ll be right there.”

In a few minutes, there’s gentle knock on the door before it opens on its own. The girls are too absorbed in their movie to notice. Lorenzo comes in wearing one of his light gray suits. 

I can’t help my smile at seeing him. He comes to me, one hand around my back, and one cradling my cheek, pulling me into a kiss. He likes me missing him.

My hands sneak into his jacket and up his chest, feeling the muscles his white shirt can’t hide. “Have you been getting a lot of work done?”

His hand tucks my hair behind my ears and nods.

“It felt like you were avoiding me,” I say.

He kisses my forehead, but doesn’t deny it.

“Is it the girls?” I ask. 

He gives a small shake of his head. 

“Then why?”

“Come here,” Lorenzo takes me around the waist and leads me out to the balcony. 

“What’s going on with you?” I ask. 

“The girls parents should be here in a couple of hours.”

I laugh, “Yeah, and that’s a good thing, right? They get to go home,” I wrap my arms around his neck and bring our bodies closer, “and I get to thank you properly.”

His hands trace down my back and over the curve of my ass. “You’ll still be here when they’re gone?”

“Oh,” I didn’t even think about leaving. “Well, yeah.”

“You want to say?”

I laugh, “Is that what this is all about? You were afraid I’d leave?”

He squeezes my ass, “You didn’t answer the question.”

“Lorenzo,” I kiss him softly, “I have no intention of going anywhere quite yet, and when I do go home, I’m certainly going to talk to you about it first.”

He sighs in relief and kisses me hard. He’s an anxious man, I realize. His quiet, calm, and sometimes cold demeanor is a complete facade, hiding all his fears and insecurities. He’s putty. 

Even the hateful part him seems to be driven by pain and loss.

“Mr. Enzo, Can we get more popcorn?” my angel interrupts. I laugh against his mouth. 

“Of course, sweetheart,” he says to Scout with a chuckle. 

“I forgot to tell you,” I say, “they call you ‘Mr. Enzo.’ ‘Mr. Enzo saved us,’ they say.”

“They can call me whatever they like if it puts a smile on your face like that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so much before, and never with your eyes dancing as they are now.” 

His hand traces down my face.

As Lorenzo goes to order the popcorn, I wonder if the reason he became the man he did was because no one ever loved him the right way. For the first time I allow myself to wonder if I’m capable of loving a man ‘the right way,’ pure, accepting, forgiving, and unconditional. If I’m capable of loving HIM that way.

As crazy as it sounds, I think I’m the perfect person for the job.

 

_____________________

 

Scout’s anticipation to see her daddy is so high, that she’s no longer clinging to me, I’m the one clinging to her. I’m getting as many hugs and cuddles in as I can while she’s still here. I have every intention of returning home soon and spending all the time in the world with her, but I know her father and the Quartermaines are going to be smothering her in love, and things with Lorenzo don’t feel quite settled enough for me to go. 

‘Mr. Enzo’ is bent over talking with Avery about her mommy and how she’s going to take her to pick daffodils in the park. I don’t ruin her fantasy by telling her it isn’t their blooming season, and Lorenzo’s softness and warmth toward these girls is a beautiful thing to watch. 

“Señor,” says a guard coming up to talk to Lorenzo. 

Lorenzo’s warmth is completely gone and replaced by that cool facade. His shoulders are back, his spine is stiff, and I can tell he’s chewing on the inside of his cheek. Next time I kiss him, I’ll have to check and make sure his teeth aren’t doing any damage to that sensitive tissue.

He turns to me and says, “They’re at the door.”

I give Scout and Avery one last squeeze and kiss their squishy, little cheeks. “I love you, girls.”

“I love you, Gramma!”

“I love you, Auntie.”

Footsteps are coming closer to the sitting room and I squeeze tighter.

“Avery!” Ava yells, and mother and daughter run for each other. “Oh my baby girl!” Tears are falling and sobs are sounding. Their reunion is twisting up the deepest parts of my heart. I can hardly hear their words to each other through their sobs.

“Daddy!” yells Scout. My baby girl jumps from my arms and runs to her father. Drew falls to his knees and envelops the little, blonde girl. I wonder at how the bones of these little girls are going to survive all their reunions with how tight their being held. I’m certain their parents have no intention of letting either of them go for the rest of their lives.

“Come on, Drew,” says Ava. “I’m anxious to get her home.”

Drew nods to Ava and stands up, lifting Scout with him. My girl has her arms locked around her father’s neck. He comes to me and says with a voice that cracks halfway through, “Thank you, Alexis...Thank you.”

I give him as big of hug as I have in me. “It was all Lorenzo. I didn’t do much of anything.”

Drew pulls back and looks in my eyes a moment trying to figure out what’s really going on.

“Go on,” I say. “Get her home.”

“Aren’t you coming?”

“I’ll come home soon. I have some unfinished business here.” I look to Lorenzo.

“Alexis…”

“Go, Drew.”

He nods. I give Scout one last kiss goodbye.

“Oh,” I say, “the girls are pretty attached to each other. I don’t think it’s a good idea to separate them yet. Especially at night.”

Drew nods in acknowledgment. He leans in and kisses me on the cheek and whispers in my ear. “Don’t worry, Alexis. Julian and Nikolas have a plan to get you out of here.”

“Drew…” Oh God no, what are they planning?

He pulls away and steps to Lorenzo. “Look, man, I don’t have a clue what the hell is going on here. If you truly had nothing to do with my daughter being taken from me, then I owe you a debt of gratitude. But I swear to God, if you harm one hair on that woman’s head,” he looks to me, “I kill you with my bare hands.”

Lorenzo just smirks down at Drew with amusement in his eyes. I wonder what on Earth is going on in his mind.

“Thank you, Alexis,” says Ava. We make eye contact across the room. I nod to her knowing how hard it is for her to be grateful to me for anything.

“Come on, Drew. The plane is waiting,” she holds out her hand impatiently, no ‘thank you’ to be spared for Lorenzo.

Drew gives me one last look before he goes to Ava. He wraps an arm around her and kisses her in pained relief. I’m stunned to realize their relationship has evolved. I guess months of working together with a single-minded obsession can bring unlikely people together.

I can’t help my tears as my girls leave out the door. “Lo?”

“Hmm?”

“You’ll make sure they leave safely?”

“They have an escort directly to the tarmac.”

I pull my eyes from the empty doorway and turn to Lorenzo. The tension is still is his spine, and he’s still chewing on his cheek.

I run for him and throw my arms around him. He’s caught off guard by my surprise attack, but he adapts quickly as I take his mouth with mine. His hands tangle in my hair as he takes over, his mouth devouring my kiss.

We should probably get to one of our rooms, but I can’t wait. I start pulling off his jacket, and the moment he realizes my intentions, he growls deep and helps me yank off all our clothes. He pulls me to the couch and falls on top of me. His cock is in me before I have a chance to take a breath. 

He fucks me with a maddening, wild abandon, just as I need. I’m anxious and relieved and aroused and terrified and angry and joyful, and it’s all just too much to bear, so I need to be fucked senseless to calm me down. I need his hands gripping my ass as he pounds his cock into me, stretching my pussy, pounding my cervix. I need his body crushing my lungs, making me gasp for breath that he steals with his mouth smothering mine. I need to feel his hard muscles and his sweaty skin. I need to feel the hair on his chest rubbing my breasts. I need him closer and tighter and in me in every way I can have him so I don’t feel so goddamn alone in my insanity. 

My earth-shattering orgasm gives me the release of tension and emotion I crave. I scream with every contraction of my sex, and my voice blends with Lorenzo’s growling and grunting climax.

I don’t let him off me. I don’t let him pull away. My arms and legs pull him closer. I need his weight and his slowing heart to comfort mine. I need his steadying breath to show me how to take in air. 

This man would go to the ends of the Earth for me. He’d give up his fortune, kill an army, and sell his soul to appease one of my whims. 

How did this happen? Has he always been this man? Could I not see it through the mask of Luis Alcazar’s face?

“I love you,” I say. Immediately, I realize I probably shouldn’t. I haven’t sorted out whether I’m grateful, high on the power his devotion, or if I actually care for this man as a person.

I don’t know much about him. I don’t know who he is, what his parents' names were, or who is his favorite sports team. 

But I feel like I know HIM as a human. I feel like I know more about him than anyone else could possibly know. I know his rage and his cruelty. I know his cool intelligence and exquisite manners. I know his passion and his adoration. I know all of him. 

Maybe Carly and Skye knew all of him, too. But the way they spoke of him, at such extremes, completely evil or perfectly loving, they couldn’t carry the dialectical nature of this man simultaneously in their minds. 

Lorenzo isn’t bad OR good. He’s bad AND good. Just like Julian is bad and good. The sickness of my mind is not that I deny the existence of evil in these men, but that their darkness is partly why I fall for them.

My thoughts drift to Julian and whatever plans he and Nikolas are coming up with to free me from Lorenzo. I need to stop them, whatever it is they’re doing.

I nearly forgot I said those three little words aloud when Lorenzo lifts his head that was buried in my neck to meet my eyes. He stares with a vibrating intensity, and I wonder how it’s possible to maintain the energy after exertion of what we just did.

“You love me?” he asks.

I’m afraid to say it again. I’m not sure I can mean it the same way with my thoughts racing as they are right now. 

But he doesn't need me to say it. He sees something in my eyes that gives him whatever confirmation or validation he’s seeking.

“I don’t know what confuses me more, Alexis Davis, that you and I could, after everything we’ve done to each other, after everything we’ve been to each other, fall in madly, passionately in love, or that we didn’t fall in love with each other the moment we met at the Quartermaines’ all those years ago.”

“Why here? Why now?” I sympathize with his confusion.

He nods. “I’m sorry I wasted so much life without you.”

“Oh, Lorenzo.” I pull him down and kiss him again.

Eventually, he takes me back to my room and makes proper love to me. With his distracting attentions, I don’t have time to contemplate how or why, with the maddening state of my emotions today, this is where they’d land. I just go with it. 

It’s not until I’m cuddled up in Lorenzo’s sleeping arms that my thoughts catch up with me, and I have nowhere to run from them...


	12. Catch and Release

Catch and Release

_______________

 

I’m chewing on my freshly manicured nails. 

The dissonance in my soul has me anxious and distracted. I can hardly appreciate the effects of the day at the salon and spa Lorenzo arranged for me. I feel complicit in his crimes when I enjoy the comforts of his money and his adoration, especially now that I'm no longer his captive.

I sit staring down the hall to Tomas’s cell. I don’t want to go over there and be confronted with the reality of Lorenzo’s cruelty, but avoiding it doesn’t ease my conscience either. 

I woke up this morning warm and content in Lorenzo’s arms. Ever since Scout and Avery made it safely home two weeks ago, I’ve been living a perfect existence of sex, indulgence, and affection. Lorenzo, it turns out, is an exceedingly generous lover and a sweetheart of a man to the woman he’s loving.

I’ve been avoiding coming face to face with the ultimate reality of genuinely choosing between Julian and Lorenzo now that Scout is home safe. I’ve been living in my cocoon of temporary bliss, where Lorenzo is my lover and my savior...

But then I came downstairs and stared down the hall at the cell where he’s holding my friend captive.

I walk down the hall and realize there’s no guard at the door. I hurry the rest of the way, and check the lock. It opens. I look in the room and find it empty. No signs of habitation. 

I check the room next to it...empty.

“Lorenzo, what have you done?” I mumble to myself. I pull my phone out of my pocket and call him.

“Hello, darling,” he answers right away.

“Where are you?”

He pauses a moment registering my agitated tone. “I’m in a meeting.”

“Where?”

“Here in the villa.”

“I need to see you, right now.”

“Go to my room, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

I charge my way upstairs thinking of all the possibilities of horrible things he’s having done to Tomas. Torture, confinement...death? My thoughts are spinning wildly, catastrophizing every worst case scenario. 

I’m pacing and fretting and a helpless, useless pile of agitation.

Lorenzo said fifteen minutes, but it only takes him seven. He steps warily through the door, spine stiff and the way he’s chewing on his cheek makes his pale lips pucker. He knows he’s stepping on a landmine as he enters the room.

“Where’s Tomas?” I demand.

His eyebrows raise as though he’s surprised I’m angry about Tomas. He audibly sighs in relief. I’m wondering what the hell else he could possibly think I’m upset about.

“Hello, my love,” he greets me, walking up and placing a kiss on my cheek. 

“Don’t ignore my question.”

“I’m not. I’ve moved Mr. Delgado to another location.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m tired of having the man who tried to murder me living under the same roof and making love eyes at my girlfriend.”

“He’s my friend!”

“He tried to kill me. You call a man who tried to kill me your friend?”

“He was following orders...doing his job. He didn’t know you.”

“Oh, because it’s state sanctioned murder, it’s ok that he tried to kill me?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“No, really, Alexis, what do you mean? What should I have done with the man who wants me dead? Should I set him free so he can imitate me and try to kill me again? You know he will.”

“Of course I don’t want him to hurt you.”

“Then what? Should I keep him here and put up with him fawning over the woman I love when she brings him treats and uplifts his spirits?”

This isn’t going the way I planned. “I don’t want to seem disloyal to you, Lorenzo. But I have compassion for the man. I saw what you did to his son.”

Lorenzo grumbles and turns away. I grab his arm and pull him back. “I want to check on him. And I want to make sure he’s not being treated too poorly.”

He’s really chewing on his cheek now. He’s agitated. I know he doesn’t give in when he’s agitated. I need to calm both of us down. 

 

I step closer to him and wrap my arms around his waist. His spine loosens at the contact. How easy it is to get him to give in to me.

“Please?” I plead.

He sighs and kisses my cheek. “Fine. I’ll arrange a phone call for you later today.”

Lorenzo pulls away and walks to his minibar. He gets himself a glass of ice and sparkling water. I stare at the clear liquid knowing he usually prefers something amber.

“That doesn’t look very satisfying,” I say.

He looks in his glass. “I don’t want you to have to taste whiskey on my lips.”

Damn, he’s sweet. “You really do love me, don’t you?”

He smiles softly and nods. I grab his hand and bring him to the couch. He doesn’t allow me to sit next to him; instead, he pulls me on his lap. He offers me a drink of his sparkling water. 

“Thank you.” I take a sip and set it aside. I cup his face in my hands to make him look in my eyes. “What were you so worried about when you came in here?”

He runs his fingers through my hair as he talks. “I could tell you were angry on the phone. I don’t like when you’re upset.”

“You seemed relieved I was talking about Tomas. What else would you think I was angry about?”

He kisses my temple. “I don’t know. I was afraid you’d find some reason to leave me.”

“So every time I get mad, are you going to be afraid I’ll go?”

He shrugs. “One of the great tragedies of my life has been that nobody ever chooses me, Alexis. And it’s usually my own fault. I drive people away.” 

“You don’t believe I’m going to keep choosing you, do you?”

“Sometimes I believe it. When you’re touching me, making love to me, it’s hard for me to imagine that kind of feeling is something anyone would be able to let go of, but then you get angry with me, and I doubt everything.”

His vulnerability twists my heart into a knot.

“The last woman I cared about tried to have me killed when she was angry with me.”

“Skye?”

He nods.

“I’m not Skye.”

He smiles, “I know, believe me. It’s just going to take some time for me to trust in this, Alexis. I’ve lost everyone I love, EVERYONE. I’m terrified of losing you, too.”

“You haven’t lost everyone you love. Lila Rae is still alive.”

“But she’s not in my life.”

“That’s your choice, Lorenzo. You choose to live this dangerous life. You choose to keep her safe from it.”

“A mockingbird should keep her innocence. She doesn’t need to know me, to know this life. That would be a terrible tragedy.”

I kiss him for that. When he talks about his love for his daughter, any resistance to the man is futile. 

“You know,” I say, “you could choose another kind of life. A safer life for Lila, for me, for you.”

“I’ve tried that before…”

“What went wrong?”

“The last two times, the people I left the business for left me. I was left with neither the business, nor the girl, and had to start over on all fronts.”

“And before that?”

“The girl I left the business for was killed because I couldn’t protect her without its power. This business of mine, it’s a blessing and a curse. It protects the people I love while simultaneously driving them away.”

His face is tragically sad. I see his age more in this moment than I ever have before. I kiss the frown line on his brow.

He squeezes me tight and says, “My worries about you leaving aren’t completely off base, you know.”

“Why would you say that?”

“I know you want to go home soon. I know you’re missing your daughter. Going back to Port Charles might change things for us. Port Charles hasn’t been a good town for me.”

“I do want to go home.”

He sighs and his body tenses around me, like his instinct is to cage me in. I like the possessiveness. I don’t know why I do it, but I make an impulsive decision...but one I feel good about. Excited even.

“But, I’d like you to come WITH me...if you want.”

Lorenzo’s mouth drops open understanding my implication, “You want me to come with you? You want to announce to your friends and family that we’re together?”

I nod. “I want you to get credit for saving my granddaughter. I want people to know that I’ve chosen you. That I trust you. That I love you.” My thoughts drift wistfully to Julian...he’ll never understand...he’s going to need to see it for himself.

Lorenzo kisses me like his heart is bursting with joy, only joy is an unfamiliar emotion for him, one he associates with loss and pain, so there’s a desperate need to cling to whatever bizarre kind of relationship this is we’ve built.

He stands up with me in his arms and carries me to bed. I love how his long body crawls over me. His masculine, athletic grace lights a fire in my blood. My legs spread like they’re meant to when he’s above me, and his pelvis drops rubbing sex against sex through his suit and my dress. 

“I love you, Alexis,” he rumbles as he rolls his hips and smothers my body.

“I love you, too, Lorenzo.”

“You choose me?”

I nod and smile, “I choose you.”

He smiles bright and beautiful before he drops his head and kisses me. I really should tell him that one of the reasons I’ve chosen him is this, the way he kisses me, the way he makes love to my mouth.

Then again, after he peels off his shirt, drops his pants, and yanks off my dress, I think this why I choose him, the way his long body covers mine, the way he fills my sex, the way he intuits what I need and how I need it. Pace, intensity, passion, dominance. How does he get me so well?

Maybe his intuition about me is the reason I choose him. 

Or maybe it’s his passionate indulgence filling all those holes Mikkos left in my heart. 

Or maybe it’s just because after those assholes killed my Sam, Kristina, and Danny, he found my baby girl and brought her home. He gave me the one thing no other person could.

I push him over and climb on top of him. His blue eyes shine bright as they look up at me while I ride him. Maybe this is why I choose him. He’s seen the worst of me and still keeps me up here on this pedestal, above anything else in his life.

When I come, I throw my head back in complete vulnerable release of self-protection and self-preservation. He fucks up into me finishing himself off because I’m too lost in my pleasure to move.

I collapse on his chest and relax against his pounding heart.

 

___________________

 

A loud, abrupt knock disrupts our love making. It’s followed by more and more knocking and yelling for Lorenzo.

Lorenzo kisses my temple before getting out of bed and pulling on his pants to answer the door. I scurry to his closet to find one of his robes. 

When I come out covered, Lorenzo has the man cornered against the wall, pointing a finger in his face and barking questions at him in Spanish. He so rarely loses his temper, even in rage, that I’m completely shocked. 

I almost go to him and calm him down, but I hear my phone ringing, and I can’t miss a call from Julian, so I run to answer it and let Lorenzo sort out his own business for the time being. 

The caller ID shows it’s Julian.

“Julian?”

“Alexis,” he breathes in relief. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry I haven’t called. I had to go dark, or he might’ve been able to track me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Alcazar. I have a way to get you away from that bastard.”

“No. God, no. Julian, what did you do?”

Julian sighs. “I found his daughter...like you said.”

Dread fills the deepest parts of my soul. My hands are shaking. “No….no...Julian, you took Lila Rae?”

“I have her here in Port Charles. I’m making him bring you here for a trade.”

“No! No! I don’t accept that! No! Let her go!”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I’m not a prisoner here anymore! I choose to be here!”

“Come on, Alexis. I’m no fool. I know he’s making you say that.”

“He’s not, Julian. He’s really not. I’m…” God I didn’t want to tell him like this! “I’m in love with him, Julian! I’ve fallen in love with him!”

“I know you’re lying, Alexis. Don’t worry, ok? He won’t hurt you if I have his daughter.”

“Julian! You’re just like the Ruiz clan! You can’t take babies from their mothers!”

“I can’t let him keep you!”

“I will not be traded for her! You let her go! You have no idea what you’ve done! You have no idea what he’ll do to you!”

The phone is pulled abruptly from my ear. I turn to see Lorenzo ready for a fight, his shoulders back, chest out, fists clenched, biting his cheek, and the phone to his ear. His heated rage is gone, and that maniacal, electric energy is filling his eyes. The coldest voice I’ve ever heard speaks from his mouth.

“You’ve made a fatal mistake, Mr. Jerome. I hope you say goodbye to your sons, because by the time I’m done with you, they won’t find enough pieces of your body to cremate for your funeral.”

Lorenzo takes a deep breath as he listens to Julian speak. I can feel the air freezing around me.

“Tell me where I can come get my daughter. If you don’t cooperate, I swear to God, I’ll come get you and your little Leo, Wiley, and Lucas, and I’ll have you watch as I behead them one by one as slowly and painfully as I can.”

“Lorenzo!” I hit him with all my strength. He’s completely unfazed. I hit him again and again and over and over until he wraps an arm around me and holds me tight to his body. I try pushing away, but he holds firm.

“Don’t you worry about Alexis,” he says to Julian. “She’s not yours to worry about anymore. We’ll meet you in Port Charles tomorrow. Lila better not have a scratch on her.”

Lorenzo tosses the phone aside and lets me go. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” I say. “Leo was my stepson! I love that boy! Wiley?! I fought tooth and nail for custody of that baby! I’ve known Lucas for most of his life!”

“Alexis,” Lorenzo rumbles, “I’m not going to harm them. I wouldn’t do anything to upset you. And I don’t hurt children, you know that.”

“But you said…”

“I said what I needed to say to keep my daughter safe.”

“Julian won’t hurt Lila.”

“The man who held a knife to your throat? Am I supposed to trust him? This is my daughter! She was never even supposed to know I’m still alive! He’s ruined everything!”

“He’s trying to protect me! To save me!”

“I’m the last person in the world you need protecting from.”

“He doesn’t know that! The last time he saw me, your goons carried me away and threw me in a cell, then you beat him and my nephew half to death! He thinks you’re imprisoning me.”

“But I just heard you tell him the truth. You told him you love me.”

“But he thinks you’re forcing me to say it.”

Lorenzo sits on the edge of the bed and buries his face in his hands. “She’s my baby, Alexis. MY mockingbird…” his voice cracks.

“Oh, Lo…” I cup his face in my hands. “She’ll be safe. I’ll call Julian and tell him you’ve agreed to give me back.”

“Alexis…”

“No listen. We’ll tell him you’ve agreed to give me back. We’ll make the trade, then you can get Lila to safety. When she’s secure, you can come back to me. I’ll still be yours. I choose you.”

His chest is heaving and his jaw is clenched tight. 

“Trust me, Lo. I know Julian, and I know you. Everyone will get out of this safe and well. You just have to promise me...PROMISE ME you won’t hurt anyone over this. Not Julian, not his children or grandchild. No one.”

“That’s not my nature, Alexis. And it’s really bad for business. It makes the people I love vulnerable to attack if I don’t show force.”

“No one has to know except you, me, and Julian.”

“And Skye, and my men. Word gets around.”

I pull away from Lorenzo and point a finger at him. “If you harm anyone I care for, I will not forgive you, you understand? I will NOT forgive you.”

Lorenzo growls at me, and his eyes look murderous. I know his rage is meant for Julian, but it doesn’t scare me any less. He doesn’t like me making demands this way. He can’t handle the ultimatums. 

I try a different tact. “Baby, please,” I say, allowing my voice to sound vulnerable and pleading. “Please, Lo. I’ve lost too many people I love already. I couldn’t take losing anyone else. Please don’t do that to me.”

His eyes soften, “Alexis…” He holds out a hand to me. I accept, and let him pull me in close so he’s leaning his head against my chest. “We’ll compromise...I’ll follow your lead. I do things your way. If Lila Rae is hurt, at all, I get my revenge. If he keeps her safe, I’ll let him go, but I want to be there when you break his heart and tell him you choose me.”

“That’s petty, Lorenzo.”

“It is a petty and pathetic revenge, Alexis, and certainly no substitute for putting his head on a stake. This is where I draw my line.”

I pull his face up and look into his bloodshot eyes. He’s biting his cheek and his brow is furrowed. “You’re terrified, aren’t you?” I ask.

“Terrified and furious.”

“You trust me?”

He nods up at me, “More than I trust anyone.”

“I’m going to get my phone and call Julian. I’ll make sure she’s safe. Could you have some luggage brought to my room so I can pack a few things?”

“Of course.”

“When do we leave?”

“In an hour.”

I kiss him deeply before I retrieve the phone and walk out the door. I hope I’ve convinced Lorenzo to go along with my plan.

I have Julian back on the life before I make it back to my room. 

“Alexis?”

“Julian, what are you thinking?”

“I’m getting you back, sweetheart.”

“You have no idea the kind of man you’re dealing with. He’s fiercely protective of his daughter.”

“I know. It took ages to get an opportunity to strike. He had her guarded like Fort Knox, but all the guards were under cover, so no one, not even the girl knew they were there.”

“I can’t believe you kidnapped an innocent girl. I’m so disgusted, Julian. You did the same thing to Lila Rae that the Ruiz clan did to Scout and Avery.”

“No, Alexis…”

“Yes, Julian!” I push my way into my room and close the door behind me. “Just because she’s Molly’s age doesn’t mean she’s not as innocent as Scout or Avery.”

“No, Alexis. I mean, the Ruiz clan didn’t kidnap the girls!”

“Of course they did. Lorenzo told me all about it.”

“No, Alexis. He was lying.”

“No, he wasn’t…”

“I have pictures. Here, let me send them to you…” I hear him messing with his phone as we talk. “There.”

It takes a moment, but the pictures come through. They’re dark and hard to place out of context. I put Julian on speaker as I stare at the pictures. I don’t have my glasses on, so I pull the phone farther away from my face. My gut starts turning as I start to register what I’m looking at. 

“That’s taken from the security footage at the Moretti controlled docks in New Jersey in the morning after Christmas.”

“That’s the Mob family Valentin thought was helping Lorenzo.”

“He was right, Alexis. Nikolas and I were able to break into their security system. We found video of Alcazar present when Scout and Avery arrived at the docks. That’s him in the picture. He was the one who gave them the to Ruiz clan.”

I stare at the man in the picture, trying like hell to see someone else. But I know Lorenzo’s body better than anyone. I know his gait and his posture. I know everything about him. That’s Lorenzo.

“No…”

“That bastard is responsible for killing our daughters, our grandson. He kidnapped our girls, Nikolas, you. I had to get you back, sweetheart. And like you said, his daughter was the only way.”

My heart is racing, and my stomach is turning. I feel like I’m going to be sick. 

I’ve been making love to this man for weeks. Not manipulating him. Not coercing him. Loving him. I’ve been LOVING him. THANKING HIM!

I run to the toilet and vomit as I think of every time I’ve taken him into my arms, into my bed, my mouth, my sex. My stomach heaves in disgust and painful angst. I’m choking on my vomit because I’m trying to sob at the same time. 

Finally when my stomach is empty, my sobs take over my body, shaking me from head to toe.

“Alexis!” I hear from the phone. “Alexis!”

I put it up to my ear. 

“Sweetheart, are you there?”

“I’m here,” I say between shuddering breaths. “I’m here.”

“Honey, you’ve got to pull yourself together.”

“I know. I know. He can’t see me like this. He can’t know that I know.”

“Why not?”

I sob again and have to take a deep breath before speaking again, “He wants to hurt you, Julian. And now, I’m not sure his threats about your kids were empty. I made him promise not to hurt anyone as long as you gave him back Lila unharmed...and…”

“And what?”

“And after he turned me over to you, I promised I would come back to him.”

“No, Alexis…”

“Julian, he said the only way he’d let this go was if I chose him in front of you.”

“Fuck!” I hear a crashing noise, and know he’s thrown something. “That’s not going to happen, Alexis.”

“It has to happen, Julian. If what you’re saying is true…”

“It IS true, Alexis. We have evidence! He did this!”

“Fine! Then he’s too dangerous to mess with.”

“We need to kill the bastard.”

I shake my head. “You’re not going to kill him, Julian. He’s too smart. He’s too protected. He learned his lesson after Jason and Tomas tried to him. He’s a step ahead of everyone.”

“We’ll figure it out when you’re back here. We’ll hand over his daughter, get you back, and plan from there. But we have to take him out, Alexis. This is not negotiable. I won’t have a lingering threat to my boys and my wife!”

“Julian…”

“He killed Sam, Kristina, and Danny already, Alexis. He’s not getting anyone else!”

“We’ll figure it out when I get home, ok? One thing I’ve learned from this whole fiasco is I can’t think too far into the future. I have to deal with what’s in front of me first. I have to sell this plan to him. I have to make him believe I want him.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing this whole time? Making him fall in love with you to get our girls home?”

I sniff, not ready to tell him the whole truth. I give him what I can, “Yes.” The sob that comes out triggers another dry heave. Muffled cursing comes over the line. I can’t stop retching.

“Jesus. Alexis, sweetheart, you did what you had to do. That’s all. You did what needed to be done to save our girls. Now you have to focus on saving yourself, ok? Scout needs you home. I need you home.”

I breathe deep trying to center myself.

“You pull yourself together, ok? You pull yourself together, and you sell it to that asshole. Sell it like your life depends on it!”

I think it does.

“Get angry, Alexis. Use your anger at what he did to Sam and Danny and Kristina.”

At that, I realize just how angry I am. I’m disgusted and furious that this man told me he loved me, swore he spoke only truth, licked my pussy, fucked me raw, and was lying the whole time!

“Alexis, tell me you’ve got this? Tell me you can do this.”

I stand up and look in the mirror. My face is red, blotchy, and tear-streaked. I turn on the sink and splash my face with water.

“Alexis?”

“I’ve got this Julian.” My voice only shakes a little. “I’ll be home tomorrow. Make sure Lila Rae is unharmed in the meantime.”

“I love you, sweetheart.”

I’m not sure if I feel the same right now. I’m not sure how I feel. “Goodbye, Julian.”

 

________________________

 

“Are you sure you’re ok?” says Lorenzo.

“I’m sure.”

“Come here, baby.” He pats his lap. I force myself to get out of my seat next to him in the limo and sit on his lap.

He holds my face in his hands and looks at me with those piercing, blue eyes. “You’ve been distant.”

He’s noticing. I’m not doing a good enough job. He’s too damn intuitive. Fuck, it’s what I loved about him! The only way he’s going to believe me is if it’s real. I need to go with something close to the truth.

“I don’t like the idea of playing a role for Julian. I’m struggling with how to be authentic.” I let the sadness take over my face that I’m actually feeling.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He really looks sorry. I don’t know what’s real anymore.

I just close my eyes and bury my face in his neck so I don’t have to look at his eyes anymore. I’ve been avoiding these close, intimate moments with him by pretending to be asleep for most of the plane ride. His personal jet was enormous and had several rooms in the back. Thank goodness he disappeared into one of them to talk with his guards for an hour or so of the flight, so I didn’t have to pretend the whole time.

But, for now, I have to play my role. I push away the guilt of cuddling up in the arms of the man who killed my family. I try my best to separate the automatic recoil of being close to him, with the pleasant physical sensations of being wrapped up in his body. 

His smell still brings me a soothing pleasure, so I cling to that. His strong, heavy arms squeezing me tight helps me ground myself. I sync my breathe with his, pulling in air nice and deep, and pushing it out even slower.

I push away any shame I’m getting in the pleasure of his body. 

“We’re almost there, baby,” he says, looking out the window of the limo. 

I see Julian has instructed Lorenzo to meet him at one of Sonny’s old warehouses.

He pulls my face back to look me in the eyes, “This is the last moment alone we’ll have until this is all over.”

“Then we better make the most of it,” I say because I think that’s what he needs to hear.

Lorenzo looks heartbroken that we’re going to be separated. I hope assumes my distress is coming from the same place.

He drops his head and kisses me. At first, it’s slow and gentle, all lips and soft breath. I hold still and let him do with me what he will. His tongue dips in my mouth and licks deep. I’m relieved all my reservations for the man don’t stop the pleasure I find in his mouth. For some reason, his kiss transports me back to yesterday morning, when we were in love and everything was fine. 

And when he pulls away, I’m still lost in that feeling, and my eyes must reflect it as such, because he smiles in the softest most loving way. 

“Please keep choosing me, Alexis,” he pleads.

I nod, almost meaning it in that moment.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

A tear rolls down his cheek…“Goodbye.”

I wipe it away with my fingertips, and realize these wont just be our last moments together for a short period of time, but probably for eternity if Julian gets his way. I’m certain Julian is going to kill this man I once fell in love with, and I’m certain I’m going to let it happen...that I’m going to help it happen.

I kiss him once more in apology and regret.

“Goodbye, Lorenzo.”

Lorenzo helps me out of the car, and we’re immediately surrounded by a dozen guards. There were a couple other cars leading and following us on the drive over. He must really be terrified of Lila’s safety to go to such lengths.

He escorts me in the warehouse after his men have already gone in. He surprises me by stepping in with me, then stopping abruptly. “One minute, I forgot something.”

He leaves me with his wall of guards and he steps back outside. No more than a second later, he rejoins me. His eyes find mine, and they’re plagued with the most painful sadness I’ve ever seen. Fear jumps in my chest and I wonder what’s going on. What changed in the moment he stepped away?

“Lorenzo? Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, Alexis. It’s fine.”

“You’re still on board with the plan, right? No one gets hurt?”

“Of course.”

I reach for his hand nervous he might change his mind. That he might try to kill Julian and run with both me and Lila. “Well, come on.”

“Wait,” he grabs my hand and pulls me back to him. “There’s just one thing I really want to do before I go…”

“What?”

He holds my face in his hands and looks down at me with a soft smile. The sadness is still in his eyes, but it seems tempered by looking at my face. His thumbs caress my cheeks like it’s the first and last time he’ll ever touch me, like he’s being mindful of every sensation. His lips drop to mine, and again, he kisses me like he’s never done it before. I follow his lead because I don’t know what else to do.

His kiss is familiar and different, and I can’t explain why. All I know is there is a goodbye in this kiss...a different kind of goodbye than the one we had in the limo.

I pull away and look in his eyes. He takes a deep breath and sighs like he’s somehow at peace.

“You ok?”

He nods. “You really are THAT damn beautiful, Alexis Davis.”

I laugh and wonder what the hell has gotten into him.

“Quit fucking around and let’s make the trade!” I jump at Julian’s authoritarian voice echoing across the warehouse. I peek through the wall of guards and see Julian standing with a stunning, gorgeous, young woman. She has dark, black hair, and I can see her bright, blue eyes from here. The poor thing looks terrified. 

They have their own guards, and I see Nikolas is there with him, too.

Lorenzo closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He grabs my hand and steps forward. His guards part for him like he’s Moses, and we step into the space between. Julian takes a step forward with Lila. I see he has a gun in his hand pointed at the poor girl. 

It makes me sick. And it scares me. A gun pointed at Lorenzo’s daughter is only going to trigger him. 

I look up to Lorenzo, but he hardly seems to be reacting. In fact, his mouth is moving, almost like he saying a prayer under his breath.

I’ve never seen Lorenzo pray.

He pulls a gun out of his waistband and continues forward with me to meet Julian. Julian and Lila do the same.

We are a few feet away, and Lorenzo stops. He pulls me close and whispers in my ear. “I’m so sorry about this, Alexis. I hope to God that one day you understand why it has to be this way.”

“Lorenzo?” What the hell is he going to do?

Julian steps forward and grabs my wrist pulling me back with him. I expect Lorenzo to do the same with Lila, but he doesn’t even look at the poor girl. This is the first time he’s seen her face to face since she was a baby, and he doesn’t even look at her. 

This makes no sense!

He lifts his gun and points it at me and Julian. Julian sees what Lorenzo is doing and pushes me down. Lorenzo fires his gun and Julian lets off a pained grunt. I know he’s hit. Lorenzo gets off two more rounds before he’s shot in the chest by one of Julian’s guards.

Lila is screaming and I don’t know what to do. Lorenzo’s guards come running forward and grab her. Half the team circle her pushing her out the door, and the other half form a wall-like barrier between her and Julian’s men. They’re all out the door before I even have a chance to see who’s dead and who’s still alive.

“Julian?” I look down. Blood is everywhere. Like my mother’s, like Baz’s. “Julian!”

I’m shaking him, and he’s not moving. He’s not responding. He’s gone. I know he’s gone.

“He took someone else from me!” Fucking Alacazar! That bastard! He made me love him and he killed my daughters, my grandson, and my Julian! He made me CHOOSE HIM and he killed my Julian!

And for what?! For nothing! I look over at his body lying on the floor. He’s dressed in one of his fine, gray suits covered in blood. If he’s not dead, he will be soon!

A pair of strong hands come to rest on my shoulders. “Alexis, are you ok?” says Nikolas.

I shake my head, and that seems to trigger the tears. They fill my eyes and start to fall. I can hardly see through them when I grab Julian’s gun and pull away from Nikolas. 

I close the gap and stand over Lorenzo. He’s choking on his own blood as it pools around him...again like mother, Baz, and Julian. His blood is seeping between my feet, and I make no move to step away.

“Alexis…” he whispers.

“Go to hell, you bastard!” 

I raise the gun and point it at his head. I fire without hesitation, and I’m surprised by the recoil. For my second and third shot, I’m more prepared for it, and the gun doesn’t bounce nearly as much. 

I can’t recognize his beautiful face when I’m done with it.

Someone takes the gun from my hand and pulls me into a hug. It’s Nikolas again. I collapse in his arms and start sobbing. I let loose everything I’ve stored up since last Christmas. 

The losses of Sam, Kristina, Danny, Julian, and fuck, even Lorenzo!

It hurts! It hurts so bad...all of it! I hate him!

Yesterday was part of my happily ever after, and today I’m five years old all over again. Except this time ‘Helena’ is riddled with bullets I put in ‘her’ head.

“I’m sorry, Alexis. I’m so sorry, Aunt. But we have to go. They need to clean up the bodies.”

I shake my head, “No, Julian needs a funeral.”

“No. We planned for this, Alexis. He’s going to be cremated. We need to get out of here. That’s what Julian wanted. The guards will take care of it discreetly.”

“And Lorenzo?”

“That asshole is going to be sunk in the harbor with cinder blocks like Jason should’ve done twelve years ago.”

I can’t seem to tear myself away.

“Please, Alexis. You still have Molly, Scout, and me. We need to get out of here. It’s over. We’re all safe. It’s over.”

I look at Lorenzo and Julian’s bodies being wrapped in plastic by the men, and even though I know the violence is done, there’s no way anyone can convince me this is over. 

It started when I was five, and I know it won’t be over until someone stands over me watching my last rattling breath in my own pool of blood. I don’t share my macabre thoughts with my nephew. I just let him take me around the waist and lead me out a back door.


	13. The Unforgiven

The Unforgiven

_______________

 

God, she’s fucking beautiful. A part of me thought the time we spent apart might dull her beauty, but she fucking shines. She’s dressed like a lawyer, black skirt and white-collared shirt, but they both fit snug, making it easy for my eyes to undress her.

I’m staring at her from outside the window at Kelley’s. She’s waiting for a cup of coffee. I wonder how she’ll react when she sees me. I hope I don’t terrify her. I decide I better go in and talk to her before she gets her coffee, or one of us might end up with third degree burns.

I step inside and steady my heart rate a moment. I can’t believe how strongly this woman affects me. When I feel like I can walk, I take a few steps forward.

I’m standing a few feet away when I see her shoulders tense as though she knows I’m there. She turns around and lets out a squeak and a jump. 

Her deep, chocolate eyes are wide with wonder and searching my face. I don’t know why I can’t speak in front of her. I feel like such a childish fool.

Her eyes drop to the rest of me. I’m wearing a polo shirt and a pair of khaki’s. I see her eyes land on my arm. 

A smile spreads across her face. “Tomas!”

She throws her arms around me and I take advantage of the moment and do the same. I squeeze her to my chest like I’ve been desperate to do for months. I do my best to focus on the scent of her hair and her joy at seeing me, and not on the sexy way her tits are pressed against my chest, because if I got an erection at this proximity, I wouldn’t be able to hide it from her.

“Hi, Alexis.”

“You’re alive!”

“That I am.”

She pulls away and looks me up and down again, either confirming my identity, or enjoying the view. Maybe both.

“Can I buy you breakfast?” I ask.

She looks at her watch. “Yeah, I have some time before I have to be in court.”

I pull her by the hand to an empty table. I keep her hand in mine because I’m a fucking greedy bastard and I just don’t want to let go. She seems to like it, too. She even rubs my arm and my DELGADO tattoo like it’s some sort of security blanket.

She orders a croissant, but I get a decent meal. When the waiter steps away, she asks, “What on Earth are you doing here?”

I laugh, “It’s a long story.”

“Then you better start now.”

“Well, after Lorenzo was killed, Lila was brought back to the villa. She inherited everything. Which meant, she set me free. It turns out, I’m her uncle. A third identical sibling.”

“What? No!”

“Lorenzo had a DNA test run, and Lila found the paperwork. We decided to get another one done for ourselves.”

“You have another niece,” she laughs. 

“I do. We’ve bonded these last couple of months. Since she never really knew her father, and since I have his face and less of a penchant for violence, she seems to like the idea of me filling some role as a father figure.”

Her eyes are still wide, and that beautiful smile is still spread across her face. “Well, at least some good has come out of this mess.”

“Well, you know, she lost a father and I lost a son. She’s not the only one benefiting from this arrangement.”

She laughs darkly.

“What?”

“Oh nothing. I was just thinking...I’m not so sure Lorenzo would like the way his ‘soul for a soul’ morality construct worked out here.”

I shrug. “Perhaps not.”

“Well, I’m happy for you, Tomas.” But she doesn’t really look happy anymore.

“And you have Nikolas and Scout again, right?” I try to lift her spirits.

She nods solemnly. “I have my nephew and my granddaughter back, you’re right.”

I squeeze her hand. “Hey, talk to me.”

She shakes her head, “It’s nothing, really.”

“Tell me,” I insist.

A tear forms at the corner of her eye. “You just remind me of him, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head, “Not in a bad way. Only the good.”

“Oh?”

“The way you look at me. Your voice. Your face. Even your scent. It makes sense you share the same DNA.”

I nod, pleased I’m not a reminder of all her pain.

“Why are you in Port Charles? I thought you’d be in Llanview.”

I let out a grumble. “I was going to Llanview, but…”

“But what?”

“I found out my sister and niece turned my son away when he asked for help paying his debts to Lorenzo. He didn’t have to die, Alexis.”

“It’s not their fault, Tomas. Baz said they thought he had a drug problem. They were just trying not to be enabling.”

I shake my head. “He’s dead. It didn’t have to be that way.”

“I’m sorry.” She squeezes my hand. “So, you chose Port Charles instead?”

“I didn’t. Lila did. She wanted to come see her Quartermaine family. She realized her mother had been keeping her far too sheltered, and wants to get to know all her family better.”

“That’s nice.”

She takes a sip of her coffee as our food is brought to us. I can see dark circles under her eyes. She hasn’t been sleeping.

“You’re not really doing ok, are you?” I say.

She shrugs in a disconnected sort of way, “This life,” she gestures around the room, “never feels quite real to me. It feels like an illusion. I guess I’ve become so used to violence and trauma that I just don’t fit here anymore.”

“It’s real, Alexis, if you want it to be.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to sound crazy.”

“Never.” 

She smiles softly. “Well, I’ve felt so much in the past year, heartache, passion, love, hate...maybe I’m purposefully disengaging with the world around me so nothing can hurt me like that again.”

“He really did a number on you, didn’t he?”

“I loved him, Tomas. I mean, I really LOVED him.” She laughs a little maniacally. “I mean, imagine my narcissism in thinking my love could change him.”

“Maybe you did change him.”

“What?” She looks like she can’t believe her ears.

“Who knows, perhaps by the time he wanted to change, he knew it was too late. After he kidnapped your little girls, it was already too late, and that was before you even knew he was alive. By the time he fell in love with you, he had no path to redemption.”

“We were doomed before we started because what he did was unforgivable. I could’ve forgiven anything else, but not that.”

“Do you still love him?”

“I’m not so childlike to think love is black and white. That pain and betrayal can erase love. I love and I hate him alternatively, consecutively, simultaneously.”

“And when you see me? What do you feel?”

“I see Tomas with a face I love.”

“And hate?”

“No. I can’t hate the face. Only the man who used to wear it.”

I’m pleased she doesn’t feel hate when she sees me. She takes a bite of her croissant and a drink of her coffee before she continues.

“The problem, Tomas, is I deluded myself into thinking my love could change him. My love couldn’t do a damn thing for his soul. His love for ME should’ve changed him. I could love him pure and unconditional all I want, but if he didn’t love me the same, then he could never really change.”

“If only he could’ve understood that before this whole mess started. Maybe you would’ve had a chance.”

“Well, he’s dead now, and I’m moving on.”

“Can you move on, just like that?”

Her face is cold when she says, “I watched my stepmother murder my mother when I was five years old. I’ve been picking up and moving on my entire life. This is no different.”

I lift her hand and bring it to my lips for a kiss and ask, “Is it possible to be your friend as you move on?”

She smiles pleasantly, “I think so.”

She checks her watch and tells me, “I should probably get going. I’m so happy you got out of there alive.”

“You know, Alexis, I have intentions of being more than your friend one day. Do you think that’s possible?”

She considers my words as she stands up and pushes her chair in. Finally, she says, “I fell for the man who had the face of my sister’s killer. Anything is possible.”

I feel like a teenager in my joy. “Lila bought her father’s old house for us to live in. We’ll be sticking around.”

She digs in her purse and pulls out a business card and drops it on the table in front of me. She grins as she says, “Then I guess we’ll be seeing each other soon.”

She walks away without a goodbye, but as I pick up the card from the table, I know it isn’t goodbye for us.

There will NEVER be a goodbye for us.

I rub my hand over my new tattoo on my arm. Lila Rae and I would’ve come here sooner if the damn tattoo healed faster. But it was good that we waited. Alexis didn’t seem to notice a thing.

Well, that’s not true. She did recognize me. She could still smell me even though I’m using differing soap. I could tell she’s still attracted to me, even though I’m not wearing one of my suits. 

I hate that she’s calling me ‘Tomas,’ but it’s better than being dead. 

Poor Tomas. That fucking bastard. His worst mistake was pretending to be me. It got him killed. How amusing that now I’m pretending to be him. At least I’m going to be successful with it.

I almost laugh at how easy it would’ve been for Alexis to spot the farce in that warehouse - all she had to do was lift Tomas’s sleeve and she would’ve seen the tattoo. She had no clue that we changed places just as we entered the building. I do have to give it to the man, threatening to kill his sister and his niece if he failed in killing Jerome really made him sell the part. He knew he was going to be killed, and he did it anyway to save his family. Noble really.

It’s a shame we didn’t know each other as brothers. But the bastard did try to kill me, so, frankly, he started it, and I ended it.

My poor Lila Rae was shocked to see him killed, thinking it was me. When my guards brought her in the limo, it took me thirty minutes to calm her down and convince her I was her real father and I was alive and well. 

Funny how a lifetime without a dad made her crave a relationship with her father more than anything else in the world. She was so amenable to play this role of grieving daughter attaching to her grieving uncle, and wanting to move back to Port Charles and connect with her family. 

We bought my old house, and things are falling into place.

All that’s missing is Alexis…

I look at her card once more. It doesn’t seem like she’ll be missing from my life - nor my bed - for long.

All I have to figure out is how to get her to stop calling me ‘Tomas.’ I fucking love it when she calls me ‘Lo.’


End file.
